


All That We Are

by Grumpy_Cupcake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimitri has amnesia: the story, Edelgard and the Church find a way to work together, Friends to Lovers, Gen, No wars here, POV Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-22 22:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_Cupcake/pseuds/Grumpy_Cupcake
Summary: Dimitri, after passing out in the middle of a blizzard, finds himself in Derdriu under the care of Oswald von Riegan and his grandson Claude. Though Claude said that they were classmates, Dimitri does not remember him. Nor does he even remember who he is or what his life was like. He quickly settles into life with Derdriu, becoming closer with Claude as he takes over as the next Duke of the Leicester Alliance.However, trouble within Fódlan threatens to tear his newfound peace apart, and it seems to be originating from within the shadows. The Empire and the Church have already teamed up to tackle the threat, but Dimitri soon finds himself wrapped up in the chaos. On top of trying to recover his lost memories and dealing with the guilt of him abandoning his country, he finds himself struggling to stay afloat.But along the way, he uncovers more about who he is, and how he fits in with the world around him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Lysithea von Ordelia
Comments: 32
Kudos: 23
Collections: Dimiclaude Big Bang 2020





	1. Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1180

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is the result of the months of writing, and it is finally here! Throughout this week, I will be posting regular updates:  
> * 15/03 - Chapter One and Two  
> * 16/03 - Three and Four  
> * 17/03 - Five and Six  
> * 18/03 - Seven and Eight  
> * 19/03 - Nine and Ten  
> * 20/03 - Eleven and Twelve  
> * 21/03 - Thirteen
> 
> Afterward, the remaining chapters will be released every Sunday :3
> 
> I want to give a huge shoutout to my artist [Brenda](https://twitter.com/happyfluids) for her awesome artwork! Go send her some love!! <3
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Title comes from [The Calling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KR-eV7fHNbM) by TheFatRat)

Dimitri was alone. 

He was trapped somewhere cold, the likes of which he had never experienced before. Snow fell from the clouds, blowing through the land and covering everything it touches. The icy winds were enough to chill Dimitri to the bone. The scraps of clothing he had on his body did nothing to block out the chill, and there were no shoes on his feet. 

Every footstep felt heavy and painful as he trudged through the snow, trying to make any sense of where he’s heading. Everywhere he looked, all he could was see the white of the snow. Any distinguishing landmark that might give him some idea, _any idea_ , as to where in Fódlan he was had been masked by this damned blizzard. Dimitri tried in vain to pull his silk cape around him to keep in just that extra bit of warmth, but it is all in vain when a sharp gust of wind bit into his hands and blew the cape clean off his clothing. The flimsy blue material disappeared into the storm, probably never to be seen again. 

Dimitri had no idea what had happened before this moment. He doesn’t know why he couldn’t open his right eye, blood pooling down his face and leaving a trail on snow. To say nothing of the black and purple bruises that were visible on any exposed section of flesh. And just how did he get those painful circles around his wrists, anyway? He trudged through the snow, trying to find the strength to carry on. His voice was completely raw, so calling out for help was out the question. Even if he could, the blizzard blocked out all other sounds. 

His foot slipped on a hidden patch of ice, sending him face-first into the snow. The biting cold no longer had any effect on him as he lay there, the snow landing on top of his prone body. With no energy to push himself up, Dimitri gave up the fight. He was going to die here, and the snow would cover up his body. With any luck, he’ll be found before he was completely unrecognisable so he could be given a proper burial. He closed his single eye and waited for death. 

*

“He’s awake! Oh, thank the Goddess!” 

“He came dangerously close to dying. Had you not found him when you did, Duke Fraldarius, he would not have survived.” 

“Let’s just thankful that he survived his supposed execution, right?” 

“Indeed. I’m curious as to how he escaped.” 

“Did you see Dedue with him? He was Dimitri’s vassal, after all.” 

“I’m afraid not, Claude.” 

“He cannot be moved in this state. He is welcome to stay here for as long as he needs.” 

“You have my gratitude, Duke Riegan.” 

The voices of three people filtered through Dimitri’s consciousness. Without opening his eyes, he felt the material that he was resting on. It was soft, like a rich cotton, and warm to the touch. Resting on top of him was something heavy that was comforting, yet also a little suffocating. He tried to push it away, his limbs rebelling against his efforts. Resigned to his fate of being smothered, he cautiously peeled open the one eye that seemed to be working. His right eye refused to budge, no matter how hard he tried. With his single eye, he tried to get a good look at his surroundings. He was in a bedroom, one that obviously belonged to someone with a lot of wealth to their name. The four-poster bed with the lavish golden curtains was a dead giveaway, as were the paintings that hung from the rich terracotta walls. To his right, he could barely make out a mahogany desk with papers scattered about it. Next to it stood a grand bookcase crammed full of leather-bound books. In front of him was a door leading to a balcony. Snow fell in light flakes that left a soft dusting on the balcony railing. And to his left were two plush sofas in front of a roaring fireplace, the light of which cast a glow onto the other occupants of the room. One of them was elderly, hunched over a walking cane. The second person had his back turned to Dimitri, so all Dimitri could make out was his dark hair and fur-lined robes. The final figure was a boy, around eighteen years old, with tanned skin that was illuminated in the fire. 

“Wh-What... Where am I?” Dimitri asked, his voice croaking from lack of use. With a startled gasp, the man with dark hair spun around and raced to Dimitri’s side. He offered some soothing words and handed him a cup of water. Dimitri gently sipped it, trying not to let out an audible sigh as the water soothed his throat. The man handed the cup over to the elderly gentlemen behind him and clasped Dimitri’s hands. 

“Ah, Your Highness! Thank the Goddess that you’re alright. Do not try to move just yet. You have sustained many injuries.” He had a loving smile on his face, looking down at Dimitri like a father would do to his son. “You are in Derdriu. Duke Riegan was generously agreed to take you in whilst you recover.” 

Dimitri felt like he knew the man from somewhere, but couldn’t fathom how or why. 

“Derdriu?” The name sounded foreign to him, as though he had never heard of it before. Had he been here before? Or, at least, heard of the place? 

“Come on, Your Princeliness. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Derdriu already. And after all the time we spent talking about it.” The boy plopped on the other side of the bed and took hold of Dimitri’s other hand, holding it between his own. His skin was a darker tone than Dimitri’s, and his brown hair appeared to be deliberately styled to be as messy as possible. Hanging on the right side of his face was a braid secured by a metal clasp. Freckles danced across his nose and cheeks, emphasised by his broad smile that spread from ear to ear. The way his eyes shone and the way this strange boy lifted his hand up and softly kissed it suggested that this is someone with whom Dimitri shared a close bond with. 

“Hmm... He is looking as though he has no recollection of us. It’s as we feared; he doesn’t remember a thing. Duke Riegan.” He faced the elderly gentleman, who had returned from filling the cup up with more water. “Dimitri may stay here for longer than we anticipated.”

Duke Riegan slowly hobbled over to the bed, lowering the cup onto the bedside table as he pat Dimitri’s bandaged hand.

“Worry not, Rodrigue. He will be safe here, and it will do Claude some good to have someone his age around the house. We will keep you informed on his progress.” Duke Riegan had a wise aura about him, like he was someone who had been through a lot and see it all. A mentor for the younger generations, a cool grandfather who snuck sweet treats into family gatherings. 

Dimitri felt reassuringly safe in his presence. 

“Thank you, Oswald. I know Dimitri will be well looked after. The ocean air might even do him good. Now, I must be off back to Faerghus, but before I go.” Rodrigue disappeared out of Dimitri’s line of sight for a second, and he re-emerged carrying a terrifying-looking lance that appears to be made from _bone_ of all things. 

“Areadbhar, the Relic of House Blaiddyd. We managed to find it after dealing with Cornelia. Hopefully, when the time is right, Dimitri will be able to wield it again.” Rodrigue leant the lance against the wall beside the fireplace and turned to bow to everyone in the room. “I bid you all a good night. And Dimitri...” He stopped by the bed, giving him a final gentle pat on his arm, “Do not rush your recovery. Take your time. Faerghus is safe hands.” With a final bow to Oswald, Rodrigue turned and left the bedroom. 

“Well, it is fortunate enough that they managed to nip the whole Faerghus thing in the bud before it go out of hand. These Relics are dangerous in the wrong hands. To think someone would try to murder the Crown Prince!” Oswald shuffled over to the bedroom door. “It’s getting late, and I have a Roundtable Conference to attend tomorrow. You two should also get some rest. Goodnight, Claude. Goodnight, Your Highness.” 

Oswald left the bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaving Dimitri alone with the boy, whom he assumed was Claude. He tilted his head to face Claude, squeezing his hand in what he hoped was a gesture of reassurance. Claude was someone special to him, he could tell. 

“So... You don’t remember me, huh? It’s not surprising, given what Duke Fraldarius has told me. The state you were in when he found us half-buried in snow outside of Fhirdiad... Gods, it’s a miracle you’re still alive.” Claude shuffled on the bed so he was next to Dimitri. “I take it don’t know what’s happened to you, then? Do you remember collapsing at all?” 

“No, I... I remember... Snow? And blood...” Dimitri rubbed his temples with his free hand. “I honestly do not remember anything at all.” 

“I promise I will tell you everything, as soon as you are ready to know.” Claude slid off the bed and made his way over to the fireplace, where he poked at the coals a bit to reignite the fire. He placed a guard over the flames to stop stray sparks from launching out and setting fire to the carpet. “Do you... Do you want me to say with you tonight? I imagine you’d want someone sort of familiar close by when you wake up.” 

Dimitri readily accepted before he had fully thought about Claude’s proposition, surprised at the words falling out his mouth. He was even more surprised when Claude readily accepted. As Claude rushed around getting ready for bed, Dimitri sank further into the mattress, fully encasing himself in the blankets. Even though it was snowing outside, he didn’t feel cold. The heat from the fire and the warmth from within his own heart are enough to keep the cold out. Claude reappeared in his nightclothes, his hair loose from its braid. The bed creaks as he tucked himself in, laying on his side to face Dimitri.

“Hope you don’t mind me keeping the fire lit, because I thought you could use some extra warmth. You did nearly freeze to death, after all.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Claude. I am warm enough now.” Dimitri felt himself drifting off into a deep sleep. A yawn escaped as he wished Claude good night.

“Goodnight, Claude.”

“Night, Dima... -Dimitri.” 


	2. Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude fills Dimitri in about some of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed the first chapter, go back and read it first :3

_The icy winds of the Oghma Mountains have begun to scatter, and the verdant skies once again spring to life across Fódlan, heralding the start of a new year. As they celebrate the dawning year, the people pray that they may realise their full potential, just as a tiny sprout hopes to one day grow into a great tree._

_With Dimitri now allowed out of bed, he set about exploring his new home and discovering new things about himself._

_*_

Derdriu, and the Alliance, was beginning to shake off its winter blues and embrace the spring seasons as the weather got warmer with each passing day. Wildflowers began to bloom in the parks across the city: everything from crocuses and bluebells to buttercups and primroses. Derdriu was brimming with colour, a welcome contrast to the winter months. 

Dimitri was now feeling at home in Derdriu, even though he had only been living there for, at most, two weeks. He had been exploring the city with Claude as his guide. With his new Leicester-inspired outfits, which mostly consisted of shirts with bold colours and puffy sleeves along with embarrassingly tight pants, Dimitri blended in with the crowds. No-one suspected that he was a lost prince. Especially not with the black eye patch that rested over his right eye, still swollen and sore from the brutal attack. There was the promise that he would one day be able to use it again, but not for a while. Not that it bothered Dimitri much. He was just thankful that he was not completely blind. 

It was on a brilliant morning, a cloudless blue sky with the sun shining brightly, when Claude said that they would go down to the docks, to a fishing point that was ripe with the best catch. They rose early, hoping to get there before anyone else. Only the workers in the docks were around as they walked along the promenade, basking in the hazy early morning sun. 

“I used to come here all the time when my grandfather was able to walk. Now, he can barely manage to get to the Town Hall in time to conduct the Roundtable Conference.” Claude leant over a railing along the promenade, peering downwards at the crystal-clear water of the ocean. “On a day like today, you could see the fish swimming around. He took me fishing all the time, and then we would have a meal with the best catch. Afterwards, we would take the surplus fish and go around to the poorer district and distribute them out.”

“Duke Oswald sounds like a good man.” Dimitri glanced downwards just as a large fish with shimmering silver scales swims by. “I am grateful for him taking me in and allowing me to recover here.” 

“He is, but don’t get on his bad side.” Claude laughed as picked up a pebble from a gravel flowerbed and dropped it into the ocean. “Come on, let’s get going.” Claude grinned at Dimitri as he grabbed hold of his hand and hurried along the promenade towards a wooden shack at the far end. 

“That eager to fish, ‘re yuh? Can’t blame yuh, the fish are bitin’ good today.” The owner of the shack, an old gentleman with a thick white beard and a gruff accent, handed over two wooden rods along with two buckets and a bag of bait. “It’s on the house, boys. Enjoy yourselves!” 

“Nonsense. You’ve got a business to run.” Claude rummaged through his coin bag and plopped down a few gold coins in front of the man. “I insist.” 

“Heh, can’t argue with the young heir. Alrate then.” The owner slid the coins into a jar and passed over an extra bag of bait. He tapped his nose as he went on to address someone in the distance. Claude lowered the bait into a bucket and held onto Dimitri’s hand again. Together, they made their way over to a pier that had a few people fishing on it. At the very end, he let go to organise himself. 

_He holds hands with me so easily._

_It’s like he’s used to it._

_Maybe that’s what we used to do all the time_. 

“Hey, Dimitri. The fish won’t bite if you stand there.” Claude settled down at the edge of the pier and adjusted his cloak so it fanned out behind him. He attached some bait onto the hook and, with the grace and ease of someone who was used to fishing, cast his line into the water. Dimitri hunkered down next to him, slipping some bait onto his line and casting it into the waters below. And there he sat, with the distant sound of fishing boats and the gentle lapping of the sea against the pier being the only sounds around. It was peaceful and relaxing. A chance for him to breathe in the fresh sea air, taking in the surrounding beauty of Derdriu, glance over to see how Claude was doing...

“Oh, here we go!” Claude cried out as he heaved on the rod, the wood threatening to snap under the weight. “I’ve got a big one!” 

Seeing Claude’s struggle, Dimitri lowered his own rod and clambered to his feet, intending to help Claude with reeling in the fish. As he placed his hands over Claude’s, he felt _something_ flowing through his veins. He couldn’t describe what it was, or how it came about. All he knew is that he managed to lift the fishing rod with the same ease as lifting a pillow. Claude lost his balance and fell backwards as Dimitri was left standing with an obnoxiously large fish attached to the hook. 

“Nice, a Bullhead!” Claude picked himself up, dusted himself off, and unhooked the fish. “Don’t see many of those around. And, even better, did you feel something strange occur just then?” 

“Now that you mention it.” Dimitri looked down at his hands. “I felt something... Unusual. It was a feeling that I can’t quite pinpoint... It granted me the strength I needed to lift that fish out.” 

“That, Dimitri, is your Crest at work.” Claude plopped the Bullhead into the bucket. The fish took up the entire space, its head poking out. “I’ll tell you more about it when we’ve finished up here.” 

*

After spending an hour fishing, and collecting four buckets worth of fish, Dimitri and Claude left the pier with their haul, ready to be sorted out ready for distribution back at the Manor. They avoided the main streets, which were now full of activity as more people got out to enjoy the sun. Instead, they took to the backstreets until they reached the hill leading up to the Manor. Dimitri carried two bags full of fish, one in each hand, which felt like nothing to him. Claude, in contrast, needs two hands to carry his single bag of fish. 

“Back there, your Crest kicked in which enabled you to lift that heavy fish up like it was nothing. Crests are special powers gifted to the Ten Elites way back in the day, which have been passed down through the generations to their descendants. Or, that’s what the Church would have us believe.” Claude said as they reached the manor gates. “My Crest, that of Riegan, allows me to heal wounds by draining the life force of someone else. It’s pretty grim, if I’m honest. ‘Course, I can’t help it when it kicks in. It just does its own thing. But enough about mine. Let’s talk about yours. The Crest of Blaiddyd.” 

“The Crest of Blaiddyd?” Dimitri asked as the guards opened the gates for the two of them to enter the estate. There was a part of Dimitri that wondered how they could be so calm with having the only heir to the Alliance roaming around freely, but he didn’t want to insult his hosts. 

“When we were students, everyone was in awe of your Crest. And for good reason. With the power of your Crest, you could snap a silver lance in half like it was nothing. Some other Crests, like Fraldarius and Gautier, allow the bearer to hit things with just a bit more power, but nothing compared to yours.” Claude laughed fondly. “And to think that you only bear a Minor Crest. I dread to think what it would be like if you had a Major Crest.” 

_Minor Crest?_

_Major Crest?_

_This is too much to think about_. 

“I see... It is complicated, this Crest business. Does everyone have a Crest?” Dimitri followed Claude as he entered the Manor through the exterior kitchen door, depositing the fish on the counters. The cooks got straight to work preparing the fish, ready to be placed on ice and stored in a cool house. Dimitri and Claude both washed their hands to remove the fishy smell and entered the Manor properly through the living room. 

“No, only those directly descended from the Ten Elites. Well, that's the theory anyway. The truth is a bit more complicated than that.” Claude lead Dimitri through the living room and into the hallway. They climbed the stairs to the first floor. “It’s going to be some time before lunch is ready, so how about a training session? I’ve been granted permission to test out Failnaught, my family’s relic. Maybe you can give Areadbhar a few swings and see how it goes?” 

“If you think I am ready for it?” Dimitri asked, thinking about what Claude told him back then about the Relic, and how it could easily destroy anything with a single swing. Combined with the new revelation about his Crest... 

“You’ll be fine. Just leave some training dummies for me, okay? Go ahead and fetch Areadbhar. I need to get Failnaught from my grandfather’s study.” Claude disappeared behind a door, allowing Dimitri to carry on to his and Claude’s shared bedroom. Though there were many spare rooms in the Manor, Dimitri was content to sleep in the same bed as Claude, as he was at ease in there. Not that he is having any difficulty sleeping. He often fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. 

In the bedroom, still resting against the fireplace, was Areadbhar. Dimitri cautiously picked it up, as though it is about to come alive. The blade responded to his touch with an eerily red glow, pulsating slightly as though it was speaking to him. 

“Alright, let’s give you a try, shall we?” Dimitri said to his weapon, 

Now no longer bedridden, Dimitri could take the time to examine the Relic. The blade resembled a giant hand with the four fingers curled over and the thumb sticking out at the end. The stone in the middle was carved with an intricate pattern that resembles a pointy star. If he listened closely, he could hear the Stone give out a faint humming sound. 

“So, what do you think?”

Dimitri glanced behind him to see Claude holding a bow. If Areadbhar had the shape of a hand, Failnaught looked like a giant ear. The bow had spikes attached to the curved section and a small handle for holding it without getting a spike through the hand. Dimitri knew that Claude was an archer, but he had not witnessed it for himself. 

“It feels... Like it belongs to me. I know it does anyway, but it resonates with me in a way that feels right. I wonder if I still remember how to use a lance. You say that I was quite fearsome with one. Let’s see if I can live up to that.” 

Together, the two of them went back down through the corridors and stairs until they were outside in the Manor grounds. Some clouds had formed high in the sky, bringing with them a promise of a heavy rainfall. They reached the training yard, located at the far end of the estate. A quaint little room with only enough room for a couple of people to move around freely, it came equipped with multiple bows, arrows, and archery targets. In one corner, gathering dust, were some straw dummies. The late morning light shone through the windows as Claude set up a couple of straw dummies in the middle of the sandpit. He nocked an arrow into Failnaught and, with a steady breath, aimed the bow at the head of one of the dummies. The arrow burned with a bright red glow.

Dimitri did not expect what happened next. 

With the grace of a dancer, Claude soared through the air in a perfect backwards flip. At the height of the flip, whilst facing upside down, he fired his arrow and hit the target directly in its head. 

“Oh my...” Dimitri muttered under his breath. Claude held his bow out to the side and dipped into a low bow, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Like what you see, Your Princeliness? Years of practice have enabled me to hone my skills. I learnt how to handle a bow before I could write my own name. Now, it’s your turn.” Claude stepped to the side and gestured to the other training dummy. “Don’t think about it. Just act on your instincts.” 

Dimitri approached his mannequin, Areadbhar in his hands. The power of Crest was surging through his veins, itching him on. Closing his eyes, he readied the lance for the attack. As he allowed the power of his Crest to take over, his body moved on its own accord. He swung in a circle and sliced in an upward motion. Not sure if he had hit his mark, Dimitri opened his eyes to find that the dummy had been cleanly cut in half diagonally. The other half was laying a couple feet away, singed at the edges. 

“Not bad, Your Highness. Remind me to never be on the receiving end of your blade.” Claude whistled as plucked the arrow from his training dummy. “It’s a good job Duke Fraldarius was able to secure it when he did. I dread to think what would happen if he didn’t, and someone else took to using it.”

“Why, what would happen?” Dimitri picked out the straw that was stuck in Areadhbar’s Crest Stone. 

Claude's face turned grim, his face scrunched up. 

“Anyone with a Crest can safely use a Relic, but you have to possess the relevant Crest to unleash its full power. I could use Areadbhar with no consequences, but it would be like a normal weapon to me. Anyone else gets turned into a monster. Do you... Do you want to hear about what happened to Miklan Gautier?” 

“Miklan Gautier? What happened to him?” Dimitri rested on a bench, Areadbhar leaning against the wall behind him. 

“Before I go into Miklan, I’ll tell you about your friends. You have three childhood friends: Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain.” Claude plopped himself on the bench next to Dimitri, resting Failnaught against his leg. “Felix is the second son of Rodrigue, the Duke of Fraldarius. The first son, Glenn, died in a tragic accident in 1176. Now Felix, he... He likes his sword more than he likes people. It’s not to say that he doesn’t have emotions, he just doesn’t know how to express them properly without insulting people.” 

“And does Felix have a Crest?” 

“A Major one, if you can believe it. Oh, there were no survivors when the two of you sparred.” Claude laughed to himself. “And then there’s Ingrid of House Galatea. An overachiever who always pushes herself to be the best at everything she does. Given how she wants to a knight, she works incredibly hard. Her Crest is that of House Daphnel of the Leicester Alliance, as Galatea is an offshoot of that family. And then we have Sylvain...”

Dimitri couldn’t help but chuckle at the tone of Claude’s voice. 

“Something tells me that he’s a bit of a trouble maker.” 

“In a way... You put it best when you first introduced him to me: he’s a bit of a skirt chaser. Always running after women and leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. He’s two and a half years older than you, Ingrid, and Felix. And yet, he doesn’t act like with all of his philandering and slacking off. Heh, to think he’s the heir of Gautier territory.” Claude hummed; his arms folded across his chest. “This is where Miklan comes in. He’s Sylvain’s older brother, but he was born without a Crest. Gautier is located at the very top of Faerghus, next to the Sreng region. Having a Crest isn’t just desirable, it’s something that is required. Miklan didn’t have one, Sylvain did. So Sylvain was chosen to become the heir.” 

“And Miklan was just cast aside?” Dimitri gasped, horrified at the way a father could abandon his son as if he was nothing. “But why didn’t his father keep him around? Surely he was a capable fighter even without the Crest?” 

“No idea.” Claude shrugged. “You’d have to ask Margrave Gautier. Could be something to do with the fact that Miklan kept trying to kill Sylvain, could be the fact that he was apparently an unpleasant person to be around... Who can say? Anyway, Miklan was disowned from the family and forced to leave. A few years later, he stole the Gautier Relic, the Lance of Ruin. That’s when your class had to go and deal with him. Because he didn’t have the correct Crest, or any Crest for that matter, the power of the Crest Stone overcame him, and he turned into a beast. The only option was to kill him.” 

“Gods... That must have broken Sylvain.” Dimitri looked down at his lap to see that his hands are shaking. He clenched them shut until his nails were digging into his palms. “Did they recover the lance?” 

“They did. And even to this day, as far as I can tell, Sylvain refuses to talk about his brother. Probably because in his eyes, he was already dead to him.” Claude placed a hand underneath Dimitri’s chin and lifted his head up to face him. “Faerghus is a dangerous place. The people there have to be tough, or they’ll die. I hope that, one day, you’ll be able to take your place on the throne and transform it for the better.” 

_So do I, Claude._

_So do I._


	3. Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News breaks across the Alliance that shakes everyone to the core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to add here!
> 
> Thank you for reading :3

_In honour of the saints whose births or deaths took place under this moon, the people perform music once beloved by those divine beings. Whether by harp, flute, or voice alone, joyous melodies are shared between farmers as they sew their seeds across the vast plains of Tailtean and Gronder._

_Now fully integrated with life within the Alliance, Dimitri took part in every activity. However, there was news on the horizon that would shake the country to the core._

_*_

The Harpstring Moon brought about a new change in the seasons. The last remnants of the snow melted away to reveal fertile soil ready for bulbs to be planted. Every year, the citizens of Derdriu took part in the annual bulb planting, ready for them to be in full bloom in the summer months. 

Normally, Duke Riegan oversaw the festivities, but his health had rapidly deteriorated in the last couple of months and was now bedridden. And so, Claude stepped up to take over in his grandfather’s footsteps, dividing up the civilians between the districts and spreading out the bulbs to ensure an even spread of colour. 

Tasked to help out with the central district, Dimitri scooped his hair back into a low ponytail and secured it place with a hair tie lent to him by Claude. In the couple of months since his arrival, he’s had another growth spurt. That, combined with his newfound knowledge about his Crest, meant that he has no problems yanking out stubborn weeds that have been stuck in the ground for months. 

He wondered if any of them were edible. 

After being handed a handful of bulbs, Dimitri set to work digging holes in the fresh soil. As he was doing so, he was approached by two young children, the boy chewing on a cloth as he hides behind the girl. The girl was wearing a white dress with pink flowers embroidered on it, her brown hair tied up in bunches with pink ribbons. The boy was wearing a green shirt with blue trousers rolled up at his ankles. His hair, the same colour as the girl’s, had been combed back. Neither of them, Dimitri noticed, were wearing shoes as they walked barefoot over the paved stones. 

“We’ve lost our mummy.” The girl sniffed, her bottom lip quivering. The boy behind his wiped his nose on his sleeve. “We were out for a walk and we lost her.” 

Dimitri, feeling sympathy for the young children, offered them a gentle smile as he encouraged them to take his hands. The girl readily latched on, with the boy hesitating for a few seconds before taking the other one. 

“You can wait with me until she finds you. What’re your names?” He asked the children, lightly squeezing their hands. “My name is Dimitri. I’m a friend of Claude, Duke Riegan’s grandson.” 

The girl’s face lit up, a wide smile stretching across her face to reveal a toothy grin with several teeth appearing as though they were close to falling out. 

“I’m Niamh, and this is my brother Arthur. Claude is a nice person. He always waves whenever he sees me.” Niamh gave Dimitri another beaming smile. “How old are you, Di-Di- Diwitri?” 

“Me? I’m eighteen. My birthday's during the Ethereal Moon. And you?” Dimitri guided Niamh and Arthur over to the flower bed, pressing a bulb into their hands. 

“I’m five. Arthur is three. What are these things?” Niamh lifted up the bulb, opening her mouth as if to eat it. 

“They’re bulbs. Your plant them now and they will grow to become beautiful flowers in the summer. Here, this is how you do it.” Dimitri dug a deep hole in the soil with his hands, dirt getting underneath his nails. “You’ll want to make sure it buried deep down to prevent frost from getting to it. That’s it! Now, sprinkle it with a bit of fertiliser.” He talked Niamh and Arthur through the rest of the process, laughing when Arthur accidentally knocked over the watering can and soaked his socks underneath his boots.

“Niamh?! Arthur?! Where are you... Oh, thank the Goddess.” A woman raced up to Dimitri, wrapping her children up in a hug. She grasped them by their shoulders and gave them a firm shake. “I told you not to wander off on your own! Something bad could have happened to you!” 

“Nothing bad happened, mummy! Diwitri is here!” Niamh pointed to Dimitri. “He helped us plant some flowers!” 

“Well, you got lucky that Dimitri is a nice prince, young lady. Not everyone is like him.” The woman looked up from her two children to address Dimitri directly. “Thank you so much, Your Highness. Sorry about these two. They have a habit of walking away when you’re not looking at them. Come along now. We’re going home.” 

As the mother dragged her two children away, Dimitri took a moment to reflect on what she has just called him. There was no secret that Dimitri was the lost prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, a country that was without its heir or regent. He should, by all means, be there ascending to his throne. Instead, he chose to hide out in the Alliance, as far away from Fhirdiad as can be. But, in his current state, Dimitri could only remember a small part of his past. He knew that he was a prince, bore a Crest, was able to wield a powerful weapon, had three childhood friends, and was found half-dead outside Fhirdiad during a fierce blizzard after escaping a supposed execution. 

Everything else was still a mystery to him. 

Sighing to himself, Dimitri continued to plant the remaining bulbs in silence. He doesn’t have any regrets about staying in Derdriu, as Duke Fraldarius himself insisted that he stay here until he has recovered. It’d only been two months, so of course, Dimitri wasn’t ready to return to the Kingdom. 

But still, that did nothing to ease the pang of guilt in his stomach. A Kingdom without a king was, well, not a Kingdom. Just a country with a power gap that anyone could take. 

Dimitri’s cheerful mood vanished, despite the overwhelming positive atmosphere he found himself in. To distract himself, he threw himself into finishing his job, not thinking about anything else but making sure that the task in front of him was completed to the best possible standard. For every weed he yanked out, for every plant he shoved into the soil, for every sprinkle of fertiliser, he tried to not think about his lost memories. 

He doesn’t even know _how_ he lost his memories. 

He only wanted them back. 

After finishing his section, Dimitri packed up his tool and began the journey back to the Manor. He wanted to clean himself up before grabbing a bite to eat. He had been working since mid-morning and by now, he'd worked up an appetite. The noise of the city was left behind as he reached the Manor, where he immediately sensed that something was wrong. The gates were unguarded, highly unusual given how there were always two guards on duty at all times. Letting himself in, Dimitri prayed that nothing had happened to Claude. 

He soon got his answer when two members of staff appeared on the roof carrying some black fabric. One of them attached the black fabric to an empty flag pole, raising it so that was at half-mast. The other lowered the flag of the Leicester Alliance so that it, too, was at half-mast. Dimitri soon realised what this meant when he entered the Manor and witnessed some undertakers carrying a coffin into the reception room: Duke Riegan had died, and Claude was now the Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance. 

_Claude!_

Dimitri dumped his equipment by the door and rushed up the stairs to the first floor. The door to his and Claude’s room at the end of the corridor was slightly ajar. As he got closer, the sound of heavy crying made his heart ache. He poked his head through to see Claude curled up on their bed, his head buried in a golden blanket. Not wanting to startle him, Dimitri lightly tapped on the door as he entered, closing the door behind him to give them some privacy. He eased himself onto the bed and lay next to Claude, not sure what to do. Rolling over onto his side so that he was facing Claude, Dimitri ever so carefully patted him on the shoulder. Claude shuffled up closer to him, still sobbing into that blanket. He peeked his head above it, revealing his puffy and bloodshot eyes. Unable to bear seeing Claude in pain, Dimitri pulled him in close, allowing him to cry on his shoulder. He closed his eyes as Claude wept, feeling his own traitorous tears fall down his cheeks. They cried together until Claude fell into a fitful sleep against his chest. 

*

The funeral happened a week later. 

Naturally, it rained. 

The streets of Derdriu were lined with mourners, nobles, and commoners alike, all paying their respects to the late Duke as his coffin rolled through on the back of a wagon. The two horses pulling the wagon were decked out in gold and brown regalia, and the flag of the Leicester Alliance had been draped over the Duke’s coffin with a reef of white lilies resting on top. Everyone was wearing black, even the children. At the front of the funeral procession was a priest with six pallbearers walking in two rows of three. 

Claude walked alongside the coffin, silently marching with his head held high. In the space of a week, he had gone from being a carefree teenager running around Derdriu with his best friend to ruling the entire country. He was trying his best to be the strong leader the Leicester Alliance needed. Deep down, though, Dimitri knew that he was only eighteen, his nineteenth birthday still a couple of months away. Dimitri stayed close to him, resisting the urge to reach out and hold his hand. His relationship with Claude was... Complicated. Casual things such as holding hands and warm hugs were common, as well as them sharing the same bed regularly. However, they were not at the stage where they felt comfortable doing anything too revealing in public. Claude had enough on his plate without being flustered by Dimitri taking his hand.

At the Derdriu Central Cemetery, the largest in the city and where the Riegan Catacomb was located, the carriage rolled to a halt. The pallbearers hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and walked through the giant gateway into the cemetery, the priest leading the way. Claude followed behind, Dimitri at his side. The public service at the cathedral had already taken place, so all that was left was to lay the Duke in his final resting place. To respect Claude’s privacy, only Dimitri was allowed to enter. Now, out of the view of the public, Dimitri immediately linked their fingers together. Claude gripped with enough force that his nails could be felt beneath the fabric of his gloves. At the mausoleum, the priest opened up his Book of Seiros and began to recite a passage in an ancient language as the pallbearers descended down a set of stone steps into the structure. They carefully lowered the coffin onto an altar at the far end, the colours of the flag standing out amongst the dusty remnants of the previous Dukes and Duchesses. Dimitri could only look on sadly as the pallbearers returned to the surface and Claude went down to say his final goodbyes, kissing the lid of the coffin and whispering something Dimitri couldn’t hear. 

Dimitri felt his heart shatter in tiny pieces when Claude finally allowed himself to break down. Down there, out of view of everyone except the dead, he slumped his head on the coffin and cried. 

“Wait here,” Dimitri said to the Priest as he sprinted down the stairs. He rushed over to where Claude is, his arms out ready to comfort him. Claude instantly shifted from the coffin into Dimitri’s arms, clinging onto him and burying his head in his shoulder. Dimitri slowly rocked him back and forth as he stroked his hair, quietly saying words of comfort that could hardly be heard over Claude’s sobs. He, too, was feeling the loss of Oswald. In the time he had spent in Derdriu, Oswald helped guide him as much as Claude had. Losing Oswald felt like he had also lost an uncle. 

Of course, his pain was nothing to what Claude felt. So, Dimitri kept quiet and allowed Claude to let his emotions out, making a silent vow to tell no-one about this sacred moment shared between the two of them. 


	4. Garland Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Claude begins his reign as Duke, Dimitri decides to do something to cheer him up.

_When the warm winds blow from the sea to the south of the Adrestia, residents know that the rainy season is upon them. Before the heavy rains take their toll, young women hurry to pick the last of the white roses. The ivory buds are woven into garlands and given as gifts to close friends or potential lovers._

_With the shift in power from Oswald to Claude, the new Duke had little time to relax as he began implementing his rule. With that, Dimitri set about trying to bring a smile to Claude’s face. In return, he learnt more about Claude and his past._

_*_

Garland Moon, the month when women picked white roses and wove them into crowns to give to their potential lovers. Or so the lore went. Dimitri wanted to stay inside to help Claude with moving into the office and sorting through Oswald’s old papers, but Claude insisted that he go out and enjoy the warm sunshine. And so Dimitri reluctantly left the Manor and walked down the path towards the city. 

In the weeks that passed since Oswald’s death, there had been a power shift. Claude held his first Roundtable Conference only a couple of days after the funeral, which Dimitri was not a part of. Instead, he had spent the day wandering the halls of the Manor. There were no books in the vast library about Faerghus, as expected, and he had already read everything about the Leicester Alliance in an attempt to familiarise himself with his new home and the traditions. What surprised him was that there was no ceremony to bring in Claude’s reign. No coronation overseen by an archbishop, no crown to place upon his head, no sacred vow to protect the people. Nothing. All that happened was Claude took over from Oswald and picked up where he left off. To see Claude go from a teenager without any cares or worries in the world, to know having the weight of the Alliance on his shoulders, filled Dimitri with guilt. On top of running a country, he also had to look after an amnesic prince. 

_I have to show him how grateful I am._

Down in the city centre, things were mostly business as usual for a weekday, with the fishing ports in full swing. The only difference was the stalls that had cropped up where women have out garland crowns of white roses. They flagged down any woman waking past, offering them a crown for them to pass onto a potential lover. Some girls glanced at Dimitri as he approached one of the stalls, giggling to themselves and daring each other to give him their crown. 

“Please, excuse me.” Dimitri bowed to the owner, a woman whose crown stood out amongst her dark curls. “I understand that I am not a woman, but I am still very much interested in one of these crowns. How much do I need to pay you?” Dimitri reached into his satchel to pull out a coin bag. He may have changed his appearance slightly to fit in with the Leicester style of clothing, even adding braids his hair as many others have started doing, but he was still a prince at heart. Claude himself had commented on how he carried himself with a regal air. 

“Oh, no worries, Your Highness.” The woman presented Dimitri with a crown that had the boldest and brightest of flowers. Her cheeks were turning red. “Please, they’re free." 

“I insist.” Dimitri took the crown from the woman and handed her five gold pieces. “You put so much effort into something so beautiful and crafted with you. I cannot allow you to give it away for free.” He bowed to her again and turned away just as she fainted into the arms of her friends. Crown now in hand, Dimitri strolled his way back to the Manor, a beaming smile on his face. 

_Oh, Claude will be so happy to receive this!_

Back at the Manor, the guards posted at the gates allowed Dimitri to pass through, both of them raising an eyebrow at the flower crown he clasped in his hands. He held the crown behind his back as he navigated the winding corridors of the house and arrived at Claude’s new office. Everything was still new to him, and it was easy to get lost. All he knew was that his bedroom was on the top floor and the office was on the first floor.

As he arrived, he nudged the door open with his feet and poked his head through the gap. Claude had not made any significant progress in the time he was gone, the pile of papers that needed sorting out getting bigger by the minute. Dimitri cleared his throat and stepped into the room, giving Claude a fright as he spun around with an armful of documents. He narrowly avoided dropping the scrolls as he dumped them onto the desk, wiping his brow and rolling up his sleeves. 

“Oh, you’re back early. What’s that you got there?” Claude tried to peer round Dimitri to see what he was hiding. 

“A secret,” Dimitri said in a childish tone of voice. He spotted a blanket resting on the back of a sofa and felt a flash of inspiration. Just because the Alliance didn’t have a formal coronation, didn’t mean that there couldn’t an _informal_ coronation. “Go sit at your desk, I want to try something.” 

“Try something? Alright, I’ll bite.” Claude slumped down into his chair, too big for someone so young. He had yet to physically and metaphorically grow into the role that had been thrust upon him. “What have you got planned?” 

“This.” Dimitri walked over to Claude and presented him with the crown, placing it neatly atop his brown curls. He then swept up the blanket and draped it over Claude’s shoulder. “There! You look like a King now.” 

Claude stared at Dimitri in stunned silence, his hands reaching up to examine the crown. His eyes grew wide when he realised what had happened. He brought his hands up to hide his face, his cheeks rapidly turning pink.

“Gods, Dimitri, I didn’t... I didn’t think _this_ was what you were going to do... I’m a Duke, not a King...” Claude peered out from under his hands, a faint smile spreading across his face. “But, if you say so, then I can be King for a day.” 

And there it was, the broad smile Dimitri had been so desperately waiting for. Claude’s spirits had been lifted, as he tied the blanket around his neck like a cape and adjusted the crown so it fit more comfortably on his head. Dimitri sat in the chair opposite Claude, twiddling his thumbs. He had succeeded in making Claude smile, but now he wanted to help with his mountain of paperwork. 

Picking up one of the parchments, he flicked through it, trying to make sense of Oswald’s writing. It was dated from the 1150s, before Claude had even been born. There were many other documents from before Claude’s birth, mostly correspondence between Oswald and the head of House Goneril. One letter, dated in 1157, detailed Oswald’s woes that his daughter Tiana would not settle down with a suitable minor noble he had arranged for her, stating that ‘she would rather sneak aboard a ship and sail out to the ocean in search of adventure.’ 

“Tiana’s my mother,” Claude spoke up from behind his pile of letters. “She was always going out and exploring. I think she knew that because Godfrey, my uncle, would be the next Duke, she didn’t want to settle down. I mean... She did eventually, but not how my grandfather would have liked. She ran over the border to Almyra, where she settled down with my father. I was their firstborn, followed by my brothers and sisters. Given the state of Almyra, it’s no surprise my father wanted as many children as possible to hold his claim to the throne. An outsider can only usurp the throne if the entire Royal Family is eliminated at once. It’s how my great-grandfather came to the throne, actually. Poisoned the entire previous ruling family during a banquet. ” 

“So how many siblings do you have, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dimitri folded up the letters and handed them back to Claude. 

“Counting only my blood siblings, seven. Four brothers and three sisters.” Claude tucked the letters away in his desk draws. “Going beyond that, my father had mistresses before he settled down with my mother, and each of them birthed a couple of children each. So all in all... I’d say around six half-brothers and sisters. My father really wants to maintain his grip on the throne, and that’s not including his own siblings who all have children. Trying to unravel my family tree will take a while.”

“Hence why no one has been able to usurp the throne.” Dimitri shuffled through some more papers, not really engaging with the contents of them. “There’s so many members of your family that it would be impossible.” 

“Exactly.” Claude dumped more waste documents into the bin. “Well, I have been at this for two hours and frankly I cannot focus on anything anymore. Breaks are important, right? So, let’s go for a walk somewhere. After all,” he adjusted the crown on his head and winked, “Your king demands it.” 


	5. Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri treats Claude on his birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying this so far :3

_As the sun grows stronger and nights grow ever shorter, the Blue Sea Star returns to the sky once more. Believed to be the Goddess’s home, her followers look to the star and commence celebrations of her rebirth. On the grounds of Garreg Mach Monastery, a grand ceremony is held in honour of this much-anticipated event. Every true follower of the Church of Seiros is sure to be in attendance._

_Dimitri, knowing that Claude’s nineteenth birthday was approaching, set about giving him a treat._

_*_

The rain was hammering against the windows as Dimitri pulled back the curtains. For a day that was supposed to beautiful with clear skies and a warm breeze, the weather had taken a drastic turn. Dark black clouds hung over the city, depositing what felt like a month’s worth of rain in a short period. Dimitri lounged in an armchair resting by the balcony door, watching the rainfall. Despite the rough weather, the early birds were still rising early to prepare for the working day. The docks in the distance were a flurry of activity, and Dimitri was secretly relieved that he didn’t have to sail out to catch fish in these vile conditions. 

Yet, he also felt a longing for Fhirdiad. If he closed his eyes and really focused, there were incredibly faint memories of snow. Nothing concrete, only the chill and the crunch of snow. He was a prince, which meant he would have lived inside the Royal Palace. He wondered what it was like. Rodrigue hadn’t visited since he dropped Dimitri off at Derdriu, so he wasn’t around to answer his questions, and Claude had never been to Fhirdiad. The only way for him to know for sure was to visit someday.

Rising from his chair, Dimitri glanced over at the still sleeping form of Claude. Since taking over as Duke, Claude had moved from his old bedroom and into the “official” master bedroom. The room was far more luxurious, from the wood the bed was constructed from to the fibres on the rug that Dimitri’s feet sank into. There wasn’t any trace of the “past” Claude, no little trinkets on the fireplace or scattered papers on the floor. Everything was too formal and devoid of any individuality. 

Nothing like Claude, with his unique charm and qualities. 

“Happy birthday, Claude,” Dimitri whispered as he tucked the duvet back around Claude. He wanted to do something special for Claude, even though he had repeatedly insisted that it not worth celebrating. 

The first step was letting him sleep in. 

The second was fetching him breakfast in bed. 

Taking care not to wake up Claude, Dimitri crept down to the ground floor and into the kitchen. The kitchen staff were already awake and busying themselves for breakfast. One of the chefs spotted Dimitri and nodded, before heading into the cellar. They returned carrying a basket of eggs, thick slabs of bacon, some fresh tomatoes, and slices of bread. Dimitri watched as they got to work thinly slicing the bacon and cracking the eggs, placing everything onto a pan to slide into an open fire oven. After a couple of minutes, the eggs and bacon were flipped and the tomatoes were added. Meanwhile, the sliced of bread were held over a fireplace to ensure a light, even toasting.

Dimitri’s mouth began to water at the aroma.

With the bacon, eggs, and tomatoes fully cooked, and the toast ready, they were dished out on two ornate plates on a tray. A pot of Leicester Cortana tea and two cups were added alongside it, and Dimitri was free to carry breakfast up to Claude. 

Claude was stirring as Dimitri reached their bedroom, the smell of the food lulling him from his sleep. He sat up in bed and yawned, stretching his limbs out with a sigh. 

“Morning, Dimitri,” Claude said, rubbing his eyes to remove any sleepy dust. “Lovely weather for my birthday, huh?” 

“Indeed. And I got you some breakfast in bed.” Dimitri lowered the tray onto the bed, handing Claude his plate and pouring him a cup of tea. Claude immediately tucked into his meal, devouring the bacon and biting into the cooked tomato. Pleased that breakfast was going down well, Dimitri sat crossed-legged on top of the covers and tucked into his meal. The runny yolk of the egg and the crispness of the bacon, combined with the toast, made for a heavenly combination. And the tea, though a little refined for his taste, was nonetheless delicious. 

“Breakfast in bed, Dimitri? Oh, you are spoiling me.” Claude dabbed his mouth with a tissue. 

“It is your birthday, Claude. I wanted to do something special. Oh, and uh... I got you this as well.” 

Dimitri leaned over to open up his bedside drawer and rummaged around for his present. He didn’t have the money or the connections to get a more personalised present, so this would have to do. 

“Here, I got you something. It’s not much, but I hope you like it anyway.” 

“Hmm? Oh, you actually got me something. I wasn’t expecting much, to be honest. I’ve never been one for celebrating.” Claude took the gift and peeled away the yellow wrapping paper. He flicked open the small wooden box inside and gasped at the content. With a shaky hand, he lifted up a golden necklace with a stag rearing on its hind legs. Dimitri had spotted it during a weekend market and purchased it in secret when Claude’s back was turned. He knew that this was not the only necklace of that sort out there, but it still felt right for Claude to have one. Especially after he had just stated how he wasn’t expecting anything. 

Without saying anything, Claude clasped the necklace around his neck and held the deer in his hand. It was made from cheap metal and given a golden coating which would soon wear off, yet he was looking at it like he had been blessed with a wonderful gift. The way his eyes were shining as he ran a finger over the stag was quickly followed by a single tear trickling down his cheek. Followed by another, and then more. He turned to face Dimitri, his eyes puffy and smile broad. 

“I love it. Thank you so much.” 

Panicking that Claude was crying _on his birthday_ , he instinctively reached out to wipe the tears away with his thumbs, his hands cupped around Claude’s cheeks. Claude leant into the touch, squeezing his eyes closed as his whole body seemed to relax. Without stopping to think about what he was doing or why he was doing it, Dimitri carried on stroking Claude’s face. Yet it still didn’t feel enough. He wanted to be closer. He _needed_ to be closer...

No, the timing wasn’t right. Claude might be his friend, but they were still strangers. None of Dimitri’s memories about Claude had resurfaced. And Claude had the Alliance to worry about without adding anything else into the mix. 

Besides, Dimitri had no way of knowing if Claude felt the same way about him. He didn’t want to force himself on Claude if the feeling was not reciprocated in any way, as doing so could lead to him being asked to leave. Where would he go then? Fhirdiad? Where even was that? Better to fight his own feelings and remain in Derdriu where he was safe than take the risk and potentially lose the one person he is closest to. 

As much as it hurt to do so.


	6. Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Claude travel across the Alliance towards Garreg Mach, where they meet up with an old friend.

_The ceaseless rains that satiate the verdant landscapes of Fódlan are accompanied by the fierce winds and mighty roars of thunder. This abundance of rain, sparkling as it falls amongst beams of emerging sunlight, is a constant reminder to the people of Fódlan that nature is ever wild and unpredictable. For when the rain finally does pause, the clouds part to give way to a glorious rainbow._

_Claude’s first official tour of the Alliance began, and along the way, he and Dimitri run into an old friend._

_*_

Dimitri suppressed a yawn as the Alliance countryside passed by the carriage window, the sun barely visible on the horizon. Claude had woken him up early that morning so they could begin their journey from Gloucester territory to Garreg Mach Monastery. Claude had received a letter from Emperor Edelgard of the Adrestian Empire, who wanted to meet with them at the monastery to discuss important matters. She did emphasise that they shouldn’t rush to get there, as she had business within the Empire to deal with and would be arriving at the monastery by the middle of the month. Thus, rather than flying straight from Derdriu to the monastery via wyvern, Claude had opted to travel the traditional method via carriage accompanied by guards. He took the opportunity to conduct his first tour of the Alliance as the Sovereign Duke. 

The trip allowed Dimitri to see his new foster home for himself. 

Starting at Derdriu, the trip had taken them north to the Margravate of Edmund, where Dimitri met Marianne. She profusely apologised for everything, no matter how small. But she also was starting to take a more proactive role in politics, aided by her adoptive father. She personally saw them off when they left a couple of days later, promising to stop by at a later date so they could all catch up over tea. Dimitri couldn’t help but like Marianne immensely for her gentle nature. Next on the tour was the Eastern Church, which didn’t have much presence in the grand scheme of the Church of Seiros. The faction was mostly content with keeping to themselves and offering a place for the followers to pray within the Alliance if they were not able to make it to the monastery for special occasions. 

“The Western Church in Faerghus has caused a lot of problems in the past”, Claude told Dimitri after they set off towards Fódlan’s Throat. “They’ve mostly calmed down after a new Bishop was appointed, one who was more willing to work with Rhea and the Central Church. Not much of a believer myself, but it pays to keep up appearances, I suppose.” 

At Fódlan’s Throat, there was a small skirmish that resulted in Claude getting involved. Dimitri didn’t see what had happened, as he took shelter within the fort. He only saw the aftermath when Claude came back from the battle covered in blood. Failnaught was positively glowing after being used for the first time in many years, the Crest Stone brimming with energy. Not wanting to divulge too many details, Claude packed away Failnaught, had a quick wash and change of clothes to remove the blood, and bid Holst Goneril farewell as he went back to the carriage. Infuriatingly, Holst wouldn’t spill the details either, leaving Dimitri confused and worried as to why Claude was in such a foul mood on what had been an otherwise pleasant trip. Fortunately, he perked up as soon the convoy arrived in Goneril lands. 

The rest of the journey whizzed by in a blur. Dimitri danced with Hilda during one of Goneril’s many parties, studied magic with Lysithea within the Ordelia Manor library, and came under scrutiny from Count Gloucester about what his true intentions were. It took Lorenz convincing his father that Dimitri really was suffering from amnesia before he sulked off to his study and slammed the door behind him. 

“My father is still bitter that Claude is now the leader. He has had his sights set on the title of Sovereign Duke for years. And for Claude to waltz up to his lands unannounced with the crown prince of Faerghus with him... Well, it rubs salt into the wounds.” Lorenz explained as the three of them drank tea within the magnificent rose garden inside the Gloucester estate. The fragrance had been overwhelming as Dimitri sipped his chamomile tea. He remained silent as Claude and Lorenz began discussing business and politics, including a plan to have Lorenz attend the next Roundtable Conference in his father’s place. He still said nothing as he tucked into an admittedly divine evening feast that had been prepared for them, which included roast duck and potatoes smothered in honey. As he laid in bed that night, Claude already passed out because of the early start, Dimitri felt the same thing he experience back in Harpstring Moon: the feeling that he was a failure of a prince. He had a country that he could return to at any time, yet he was romping around the Alliance like he owned the place. Turned over onto his side, Dimitri dared to reach out and touch Claude on his shoulder. Claude immediately turned over and snuggled into his chest, snoring into Dimitri’s nightshirt. 

“Who am I, Claude? Please, help me...” 

*

After leaving Gloucester territory with baskets full of goods, including fresh and dried lavender honey and the finest selection of floral teas, Dimitri still felt like he should tell Claude to drop him off at Garreg Mach and let him make his way back to Faerghus. He shouldn’t be roaming freely around a country that isn’t his. _He had no right to do so_. He stared out at the window, nibbling on some dried honey as Claude broke down the itinerary for the day’s events. 

“We’re nearing the monastery. Of course, given that there isn’t much room to park an entire convoy, it would be best if we parked just outside the town and walked through, and then up the path... We will meet with Edelgard straight away and...” 

Dimitri nodded as Claude droned on, slumping against the plush seating inside the carriage. With the varnished mahogany interior, golden drapes in front of the windows, and the black and golden patterned seating, the carriage could be mistaken for the one belonging to a minor noble with a convoy following them for protection. Claude’s grandfather stopped using the “proper” carriage, the gaudy-looking one covered in solid gold and had the flags of the Alliance billowing from the windows, in favour of a more subdued carriage. He wanted to be a man of the people, as the only thing separating him from the rest of the country was a fancy title that he could easily lose. Claude appeared to be following in the same path of logic, preferring to travel lightly with only the bare essentials necessary for a long trip. 

With only a few hours’ sleep, Dimitri was tired beyond belief. Claude had had to drag him out of the guest bed, shove him into the bathtub to bathe, and then bundle him into the carriage. The honey was barely doing anything to keep him awake. He was slipping in and out of consciousness as Claude shook his shoulders. 

“Dimitri, look. There it is. Garreg Mach Monastery. It’s not changed since we were there last year, but that’s to be expected. The place is nearly one thousand years old, after all.” Claude shuffled over and poked his head out the window, the summer breeze flowing through his hair. “See for yourself!” He shouted back into the carriage. 

Pulling back the curtains, Dimitri peered out through his window to catch a glimpse of the monastery, the awe-inspiring sight taking his breath away. High up in the Oghma Mountains, the monastery was built of white stone and towered into the heavens. He found it hard to believe that amongst that mass of buildings was the Officers Academy that he and Claude once attended only one year ago. The convoy rolled to a halt, and Claude gave Dimitri’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’ll be alright, Dimitri. Don’t worry.”

Dimitri nodded, wanting to properly talk to Claude about how he was feeling, but knew that this wasn’t the time. 

It would have to wait. 

Flanked by guards, Claude entered the town and quickly passed through, not stopping apart from buying some fresh pastries for everyone in the convoy. Dimitri nibbled at his pastry, not having much of an appetite but also not wanting to worry Claude. He stayed quiet the whole walk up, even when the first drops of rain fell from the clouds. Within the monastery itself, there were only a few monks around, as everyone was in class. Walking around the grounds, even stopping by the classrooms in the rain, did nothing to help Dimitri recover his memories. 

As far as he was concerned, this was a place he’d never been here. 

The cardinals’ room, located on the top floor of the monastery, was out of bounds to students. Seteth guided him and Claude into the cardinals’ chamber, where a woman was sitting at the table. Two men stood behind her, and together they were going through various documents. The woman’s head shot up at the sound of Dimitri and Claude’s arrival, strands of her white hair falling down her face. She tucked them behind her ears and got to her feet. If it wasn’t for Claude telling him that Edelgard was the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, Dimitri would have mistaken her for a noblewoman. Her red dress was plain with a simple golden belt around her waist, and her hair was delicately tied back with purple ribbons. One of the men behind her was dressed from head to toe in black, with the only splash of colour being his white gloves. His green eyes watched them closely as took their seats. Dimitri suspected that he was Hubert, Edelgard’s vassal. The other man was Rodrigue, who took his seat besides Dimitri and briefly greeted him before Edelgard began the meeting. 

“Thank you, everyone, for agreeing to meet me. And you, Seteth, for allowing us to meet like this. The location does happen most convenient for us all; however it is also because I suspect that there are spies within the Empire. Hence the need for such secrecy.” Edelgard sat in her seat, gesturing for her vassal to stand guard over the door. “Lovely to see you again, Dimitri. I’m afraid pleasantries will have to wait until the meeting has concluded.” 

“Your letter was very brief, Edelgard. I knew you liked to keep things short and to the point, but we didn’t get much to go on.” Claude leant forwards on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “Is this about... Them? You know... _Those_ people.” 

Dimitri had no idea what Claude was talking about. Everyone else did, however, based on their reactions. Hubert’s face scrunched up slightly, Rodrigue let out a heavy sigh, Seteth cleared his throat, and Edelgard solemnly nodded. 

“I’m afraid so, Claude. It is about Those Who Slither in the Dark. It has not been that long since we stopped their attempted invasion of Garreg Mach, as well as their coup of Faerghus.” Edelgard smiled apologetically at Dimitri. “I’m thankful that you survived your execution, Dimitri. When the news broke out, it was like a ripple had passed throughout all of Fódlan. I was deeply troubled by the news, and I cannot imagine how Claude felt.” 

Claude squeezed Dimitri’s hand under the table as Rodrigue spoke. 

“Margrave Gautier and I stormed Fhirdiad and disposed of the traitor Cornelia. We found a few others who were loyal to her, mages who practiced the darkest of magic. Are you saying that these same individuals are planning on doing something similar?”

“We have reason to believe so, yes. There have been skirmishes around the Empire. Whilst they are not on the same scale as Remire Village, they are still troubling. At first, I wrote them off as the work of bandits, but Hubert detected traces of their magic.” 

“Such magic is foul. Simply being near their magic causes you to feel drowsy and lose all sense of hope.” Hubert said from the door. “Not many can fully detect it, but everyone can feel it. It was definitely their work.” 

_Remire Village?_

_Those Who Slither in the Dark?_

Edelgard must have picked up on Dimitri’s confused expression, as she took the time to explain what had happened when they were students. Listening to the stories of burning villages and blood rituals, Dimitri felt sick to his stomach. 

“I take it that it’s not as simple as tracking down their base and wiping them out,” Dimitri asked, to which Edelgard shook her head, her white hair swishing behind her.

“I’m afraid not. They are an elusive foe, and any attempts to track them down have been fruitless. But we are still trying, keeping tabs on where the attacks are happening and seeing if there are any patterns. I would ask you, Claude, and you, Lord Rodrigue, to keep a close eye on the Alliance and Kingdom. So far, they have likely kept their activity to the Empire. I doubt it’ll be long before they attempt to do something drastic in either Leicester or Faerghus.” Edelgard leant back in her chair. “Now, how about we have a proper catch up? I am interested in hearing what you have been getting up to, Dimitri.”


	7. Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the celebrations for the Alliance Founding, things take a drastic turn.

_As cold air begins to creep in from the north of Faerghus, Fódlan welcomes to riches of fall. The women spend their days reaping the golden fields, gratefully embracing the bounty the Goddess has once again provided. The men venture into the wild with horsebows and empty sacks ready to be filled with game._

_With the founding of the Leicester Alliance, everyone turns their eyes to Claude to deliver his first speech as Duke. No-one has any idea of the danger that lurks in the shadows._

_*_

The two hundred and eightieth anniversary since the founding of the Leicester Alliance rolled around, and the city of Derdriu was celebrating in full swing. The market square was so richly decorated that Dimitri couldn’t move without bumping into a floral arrangement or getting caught in low-hanging bunting. Stalls were set up around the city decked out with a variety of food and drink stalls. People danced around maypoles in the parks, children played with their friends as parents enjoy homemade picnics, and a circus act put on a display for onlookers to watch. Hilda, Lorenz, Marianne, and Lysithea ventured to Derdriu, along with Claude’s other former classmates who were all from common birth. Raphael, his muscles threatening to burst from his tight shirt; Leonie, wearing her mercenary uniform instead of anything formal; and Ignatz, who had set up near the central district to paint the scene. Dimitri hung out with every single one of them, all of them treating him like an old friend rather than a prince. Though Lorenz did occasionally slip up and refer to him as “Your Highness”, he didn’t mind it too much. 

At least, he gave the impression he didn’t mind it. 

Whilst he considered the Alliance to be his second home, in his heart he knew that he was still an outsider from Faerghus. He still hadn’t had the chance to properly talk with Claude, as the preparations began almost immediately after they got back from Garreg Mach. Bad weather had halted their progress home, forcing them to camp at Gloucester territory for two weeks until the flooding had subsided. Fortunately, no crop was lost in the flooding and no lives were lost. It was more of a hindrance than anything, as they didn’t get back to Derdriu until the first week of the Horsebow Moon. 

There was little time for talking about personal feelings. 

Nevertheless, Dimitri immersed himself in the celebrations, including watching the re-enactment of the Crescent Moon War. Held every year since the founding of the Alliance, actors from across the country put on a show demonstrating the history of how the Alliance came to be. Dimitri grew invested in the story of how the nobles of the Leicester region rebelled against the Kingdom and formed an Alliance. For twenty years, the intermittent fighting plagued both Faerghus and Leicester until they finally won their independence and formed the Leicester Alliance.

Dimitri clapped the hardest when the performance came to an end and the actors took their final bow on the stage. And then, it was time for Claude to address the crowds. It was his first official speech as the Sovereign Duke, and he had been practicing it over and over again leading up to that moment. Dimitri gave him a thumbs up from his seat in the front row as Claude cleared his throat to begin. 

“Welcome, everyone, to the annual founding of the Leicester Alliance. It was on this day, two hundred and eighty years ago in the Year 901, when my ancestors fought for independence from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. But, despite the previous fighting, we have always remained close with the Kingdom.” Claude paused for a few seconds to glanced down at Dimitri. “And I will be taking the steps to ensure that our bonds remain as close as they always have been, as well as extending a hand of friendship to the Empire so that Fódlan will continue to live in an era of peace. So celebrate with your loved ones, your friends, your family, the ones you care about. Tell them you love them, that you care about them, and that no matter what happens, you will stick by their side. Because that is what we need right now. Togetherness. A reminder that should dark days ever fall over our lands, should a time ever occur when death is waiting around the corner, we have people we can turn to. I have been blessed with wonderful companionship, and I hope they will continue to support me as I do the same to them. Thank you.”

Dimitri wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face with the sleeve of his jacket. As soon as Claude finished his speech, Dimitri was the first one to his feet to give Claude a standing ovation. 

And then, the unexpected happened. Two hooded figures rose from their seats in the front row and leapt onto the stage, one on either side of Claude. They pulled daggers from under their clothes, the blades glistening in the sun. The crowds began to scream and disperse, but all Dimitri could focus on with Claude. Without thinking, he onto the stage. The power of his Crest surged through his nerves as he struck one of the assassins on the jaw, their head turning an unnatural angle. He doesn’t wait to see them hit the floor before he turned to the other one. His blood boiling, furious that someone would _dare_ to attempt to kill Claude, he stormed over to them and snapped their neck in one swift motion. The sensation was something he had never experienced before. How was he, a mere boy of eighteen, able to take down two assassins in quick succession? The power of his Crest dying down, he looked down at his blood-soaked hands, horrified by what he had done. 

“Oh my Gods, Dimitri...” 

Dimitri spun around and cupped Claude’s face in his hands, leaving blood handprints on his cheeks. Yes, he was still in public, on stage, but that didn’t matter. Claude did.

“Are you alright?” 

“Thanks to you, I am.” Claude leant into Dimitri’s touch, his hands moving up to link his fingers with Dimitri. He gave Dimitri such a soft smile that Dimitri felt his stomach do backflips and his heart fluttering in his chest. 

_Oh Gods..._

By then, armed guards had surrounded Claude and were in the process of escorting him and Dimitri back to the Manor. Dimitri kept his arms wrapped around Claude, wanting to keep him safe and protected from everyone. The entire city went into lockdown, everyone fleeing to safety. Visitors to Derdriu were invited to stay in people’s homes until the threat had been dealt with. All of Claude’s former classmates were allowed to crash in the Manor, as it was likely that the lockdown would not be lifted until the following morning. No-one was talking as Claude showed them to their guest rooms, telling them that dinner would be served later that evening. He then retired to his office, taking Dimitri with him. There, he slouched on the sofa and draped himself over Dimitri. Though his hands were still caked in blood, Dimitri ran his fingers through Claude’s hair and held him close. He knew, there and then, that this was where he belonged. Claude needed him, and he needed Claude. 

Nothing could change that. 


	8. Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Claude share a tender moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beautiful artwork at the end was done by [Brenda](https://twitter.com/happyfluids)!!!!
> 
> Send her some love!!!!

_From on high, flocks of wyverns roar in chorus and soar the pristine skies, heading south for the winter. Fódlan’s children lend their hands to winter preparations by gathering firewood and catching fish from the rivers’ cool waters. Yet all the while their gazes are turned skywards, drawn to the magnificent sight above._

_Dimitri decided that it was time for Claude to fill in the gaps in his memories, and help him uncover his lost past._

_***** _

The storm was raging on into the evening as Dimitri knocked on the door to Claude’s study. 

“Enter.” Came the tired voice on the other side. Since the talk at Garreg Mach, and the recent assassination attempt the previous month, Claude had been taking a more active role in the war effort against Those Who Slithered In The Dark. Fearful of who he could trust, or couldn’t, trust, Claude had taken on far more paperwork than he should be doing.

Dimitri entered the office to see Claude hunched over his desk, one hand running through his hair and the other clutching at a quill. The office, unlike when Oswald was occupying it, was a complete mess. Papers and books were strewn about the place, maps of Fódlan and the three different countries pinned to the walls. Candle wax from half-burnt candles was stuck to his desk. 

“You’ll injure yourself hunched over like that.” 

Claude let out a soft laugh as he dropped his quill into the inkpot and stretched his arms backwards. Years of training with the bow have resulted in toned arms, nicely emphasised by his shirt sleeves being rolled up. Dimitri forced himself to stop staring as he nestled in the chair opposite Claude’s. 

“I assume this isn’t a friendly chat. The look on your face says you have something to say.” Claude scratched the stubble that was beginning to grow across his jaw. 

“Yes. I... I want to know about my past. I’m ready to learn everything, as painful it may be. I can’t keep hiding like this forever. I need to know, Claude. Please,” Dimitri leant forwards on the desk, his elbows resting on top of some papers, “Tell me everything you know.” 

“Everything? Well, where shall I start?” Claude tapped his chin for a few seconds before clapping his hands together and heaving himself from his chair “Let’s go for a walk, shall we? I’ve been sat at this desk for hours and I need to get up and move.”

Dimitri rose from his chair as Claude tiptoed his way over the numerous piles of paper that litter the floor. Out in the dimly lit corridor, Claude linked their hands together as he starts talking. 

“Your father was Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd. I never knew the guy personally, but I’ve heard that he was a fierce warrior who won every battle he participated in. Because of his Crest, he was chosen to be king over his older brother Rufus. Not long into his reign, he took a wife and produced you, the heir to the throne. Sadly, your mother died shortly afterwards to a plague. More on that later.” Claude stopped to look out a window at the city below. “What do you know about the Duscur region?” 

“Only from what I have seen on maps. Why? Did something happen there?” Dimitri joined Claude at the window. The rain was so intense that not even the bravest of souls dared to venture outside. 

“The Tragedy of Duscur. It took place in 1176. A convoy of people from the Kingdom, which included you, your father, and Glenn Fraldarius, went to visit for a diplomatic mission. Every single one of them was slaughtered. Everyone, except for you.” Claude affectionately poked Dimitri on the chest. “You somehow survived, against all the odds.” 

Dimitri’s froze in place; the information Claude had told him taking its time to sink in. His own father was assassinated in an attack in which he was the sole survivor. If anyone other than Claude was telling him this, he would have thought that it had all been made up as a twisted joke. The expression on Claude’s face told him though that it did happen, that his entire family was murdered before his eyes, and that he somehow forgot all about it. 

His mouth was dry as he opens his mouth to ask what happened next. 

“After that, your uncle Rufus took control of the Kingdom. As you were only young, you were unable to rule. You also took a boy from Duscur as your vassal: Dedue.” Claude gripped onto Dimitri’s hand again and continues on down a corridor. He ducked into the room which was dimly lit by some oil lamps. The light illuminated a couple of loveseats placed around a fireplace. Dimitri settled on one of the sofas as Claude got to work on lighting a fire, blowing on it gently until the wood was burning brightly. Satisfied with his work, Claude sat down next to Dimitri and kicked his boots off, snuggling up to Dimitri’s side with his legs curled up. 

“Dedue. I remember you mentioning that name when I first got here. You said that there was no sign of him near where you found me.” Dimitri adjusted himself so that his arm was around Claude’s shoulders. He started to absent-mindedly play with Claude’s hair. 

“That’s right. We can only assume he perished sometime before then. I still don’t know what exactly happened, but I can hazard a guess.” Claude lazily draped an arm around Dimitri’s waist. “Remember the plague I told you about, the one that killed your mother and a good portion of the country? It was cured by a mage called Cornelia. She was granted a position within the Royal Palace as a reward. This same woman put out a public announcement that you had been executed shortly before Rodrigue found you. If she was going to seriously execute you, one would assume that you were in the dungeons. And if you escaped, you likely had help. It was probably Dedue who saved you, at the cost of his own life. That’s my theory, anyway. Until you regain your memories, we won’t know for sure.” 

_Dedue._

_Thank you._

“What happened to Cornelia after the news broke out about my supposed execution?” Dimitri combed through Claude’s hair, marveling at how soft it is to the touch. 

“Duke Fraldarius and Margrave Gautier launched an immediate retaliation on the capital. They were able to defeat Cornelia before she could take over Faerghus completely. Before she died, she let slip that you weren’t dead. That’s when Rodrgiue found you. You were at Death’s door.” Claude subtly increased his grip, resting his head on Dimitri’s shoulder. “Fearing what would happen if he took you back to Fhirdiad, he instead got the Kingdom pegasus knights to fly you here, where he begged my grandfather to take you in. You woke up five days later.” 

“I’m sorry for putting you through all this.” Dimitri held Claude closer to him, rubbing his hand across his back. 

_Gods, what has he done to deserve this?_

“Don’t be silly, Dimitri. I am forever grateful that Rodrigue brought you here. I was devastated over your apparent demise.” Claude sat up straight, cupping Dimitri’s face in his hands. “Don’t ever apologise for what has happened to you. It’s not your fault.” 

Dimitri’s brain short-circuited as Claude, after a moment of hesitation, gave him an intimate kiss, the kind he had read about in those romance novels Claude sometimes read when he thought no one was looking. It was everything he had hoped for and more. He was powerless to respond as Claude pulled away and moved his head to his chest, pressing another kiss into his hair. 

“Don’t apologise for something that you can’t control, Dima. Now, what else do you want to know about? How about the Battle of the Eagle and Lion? It was on this day last year that the Golden Deer house emerged victorious.” 


	9. Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri travels to the Kingdom to celebrate the anniversary of its founding.

_Hoarfrost now graces treetops and open fields alike, and an icy chill blown in from the north of Faerghus blankets the land. All of Fódlan’s creatures begin to settle in for a long winter. The setting sun bathes the full winter coat of every wolf in a foreboding scarlet glow. Hunters can now spread the word that the red wolves are back on the prowl._

_Claude, wanting Dimitri to experience the land he came from, took him to Fhirdiad to celebrate the Kingdom’s founding. Little did either of them know of the danger lurking in the horizon._

_*_

Dimitri had never seen Fódlan from the skies before, watching in awe as he left the Alliance behind and soared over the Oghma Mountains on the back of a wyvern the colour of pure snow. Though he was firmly secured into the saddle, with no chance of him plummeting hundreds of feet to his death, he still wound his arms around Claude’s waist and held on for dear life. Claude, ever the natural flier, had no problems holding onto the reins one-handed and lacing his free hand through Dimitri’s, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of their gloves. He made Dimitri feel safe as Fódlan whizzed by, an icy cold blizzard biting into his bare cheeks as they passed over into the Kingdom. Dimitri felt something stirring inside of him, as though he knew that this was his home even if he doesn’t remember anything about it. In the far distance, barely visible behind the snow, were some lights floating into the sky. 

“That must be Fhirdiad,” Claude yelled behind him over the snow. “Looks like we’re just in time for the celebrations to start.” 

Dimitri was still amazed that Claude was willing to take him back to Fhirdiad so he wouldn’t miss the four hundredth and thirtieth anniversary since the founding of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. He had resigned himself to missing it and celebrating by himself back in Derdriu, but Claude surprised him by declaring that he will go to Fhirdiad, even if it meant having to fly via wyvern due to the treacherous conditions caused by the increasingly vile weather. Passing over the Oghma Mountains, even though Ailell, the Valley of Torment, was out of the question. Treacherous on a summer’s day with good weather was hard enough, let alone with the blizzard the Red Wolf Moon has brought. And heading to Fhirdiad the long way would require heading south, cutting through Garreg Mach, passing through the Empire before finally reaching the Kingdom border at Arianrhod. Then, it would be another couple of weeks to traverse the thick snow to reach Fhirdiad. 

Travelling through the sky on a wyvern was relatively quick and easy, but that did not mean that it had been _pleasant_. Dimitri could feel his frost-bitten cheeks getting colder as the wyvern landed on the snow outside the city gates, where two guards approached them. 

“Duke Claude von Riegan of the Leicester Alliance and Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” Claude cried out as he slid off the saddle. “We’re here to celebrate the founding of the Kingdom.” 

“Prince Dimitri!” One of the guards dropped to their knees, heads bent and hands on their chests. They reached up and yanked the other guard down, uttering something that Dimitri couldn’t hear. Unsure of what to do, he awkwardly cleared his throat and instructed the guards to rise to their feet. After spending a few months in Derdriu and not being confronted by his royal lineage, he now remembered that he was a prince and thus people will be treating him as such. 

A shame, then, that he had no idea how to respond. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was confused and startled noises. 

Claude, sensing his struggle, stepped in to help out, issuing details on how to care for his wyvern within the stables to the guards and leading Dimitri through the city gates. Unlike Derdriu, which was an industrious port city rich with colour and vibrancy, Fhirdiad was cold and ancient. There was still a certain beauty about it that could barely be made out amongst all the heavy snow, but Dimitri knew that it would be best to wait until the blizzard had passed before he could truly take it all in. 

“Well, no point in standing here freezing to death. Come on, let’s go find the Palace. It can’t be too hard to find, right?” Claude linked an arm through Dimitri’s, shivering under all his layers. Dimitri wasn’t listening as he continued to talk, his mind elsewhere. The crunching of the snow beneath his feet and the sights of the city brought back a familiar sensation. Like he had been here not long ago. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander back to that time. 

_He was walking through the streets, heading back to the Palace. Why was he heading up to the Palace? He didn’t know, only that it was his destination. There was determination in the way he marched through the snow. He navigated the streets until he reached the looming Palace that overlooked the city, most of the lights on. As he approached, the doors swung open and Cornelia (was she Cornelia?) approached him with her arms outstretched. Without any warning, people swarmed him and painfully pulled his arms behind him, clasping his hands in place with tight manacles. A bag was dropped over his head, rendering him blind as he was dragged into the Palace._

“Dimitri?!” 

Dimitri’s slowly opened his eyes, the memory fading into the back of his mind. So that had been the time he was arrested on the false charge of murdering his uncle, as Claude said. Somehow he escaped and was later found outside the city on Death’s door. Exhausted, he leant forwards to rest his head on Claude’s shoulder. During his episode, he had fallen to his knees and was now kneeling in the wet snow. 

“I remember... I remember the time I was last here.” Dimitri clenched his fists into Claude’s cape, his breath hitching as he fought against his emotions. “That woman... Cornelia...” 

“Oh, Dimitri.” Claude kissed the side of Dimitri’s head and pulled him into a gentle embrace. “I’m so sorry. Of all the memories for you to regain, that had to the first one. On the plus side, any memory now is bound to be a happy one, right?” 

“Right,” Dimitri said, unsure of himself. There was still plenty of negatives in his past, such as the Tragedy of Duscur which led to his father’s death. He wanted to believe that he would remember something positive before then, if only to give Claude reassurance. He returned the hug and sighed. “On the plus side, at least I know the way to the Palace.” 

“Yes, there is that.” Claude gave Dimitri a tight squeeze before releasing him. He stood up to shake the snow from his cloak and held out a hand for Dimitri to take. “I’m sure when we get closer, the Palace will be visible through all this snow. Besides, I’m sure some friendly stranger will point us in the right direction.” 

Together, they set off in the direction Dimitri vaguely recalled as being the right way. The citizens of Fhirdiad were gathered together around large bonfires, the blue flames dancing amongst the snow. Mages in blue and white robes were going around the city, casting spells that seemed to repel the snow away from the bonfires and the different stalls that had been set up. With the barrier from the snow in place, Dimitri could see the delicacies being sold, all of which smelt absolutely divine. He was about to drag Claude over to one of them when a voice called out through the snow. 

“Duke Riegan!” 

Dimitri and Claude, along with the surrounding people, glanced around trying to find the source of the voice. The voice belonged to one of the guards from the gate, sprinting towards them through the thick snow. She lifted the visor of her helmet and held out a scroll, the wax seal containing a stamp of the Adrestian Empire. The glossy symbol indicated that the letter had only recently been sealed. 

_Edelgard..._

“Forgive me, Duke Riegan. A wyvern troop from Myrddin has arrived. They urged me to give this to you as soon as possible!” 

Frowning, Claude took the scroll from the guard and quickly skimmed over the contents. His brows furrowed and he let out an exhausted sigh, closing the scroll before Dimitri could read any of it. 

“I’m sorry, Dimitri, but I must return to the Alliance. Will you be alright? I’ll deal with the crisis and pick you up later, okay?” 

Dimitri tried not to let his disappointment show. He had been wanting to spend the founding of the Kingdom with Claude and share in the festivities together, as they had done for the Alliance back in Horsebow Moon. But, Claude was also the reigning Duke with responsibilities, and thus he was needed elsewhere, it couldn’t be helped. Dimitri nodded, giving Claude a peck on the cheek. 

“Be safe. Please, do not rush to return back here. If need be, I will stay at the Palace until you are ready.”

“Thank you, my love. Please, enjoy yourself. This is your homeland, after all.” Claude gave Dimitri a parting kiss before running through the snow back to the gate of the city. Dimitri watched him go, already feeling a longing in his heart. This was the first time in months they had been apart. Nonetheless, Dimitri was determined to enjoy himself, as Claude had asked him to. He purchased a pastry parcel stuffed with apple and cinnamon and munched it on his way to the Palace. Maybe it was the face his hood was up, or that his hair was longer, or just that he hadn’t been there for some time. Whatever the reason, not many people recognised him as the long-lost prince. The guards at the gate had, at least. Dimitri wasn’t sure how he felt about not being recognised. On the one hand, he was able to slip through the crowds easily on his way to up the brightly illuminated Palace now visible at the centre of the city. On the other, it stung that he was more widely known in the Alliance than in his own country. 

With any luck, some of the Palace staff would know who he was. 

At the entrance of the Palace estate was a vast square, with the entrance to the Palace estate to the north and paths leading to the different sections of Fhirdiad in the other directions. Dimitri entered from the south, allowing him a clear view of the ginormous Royal Palace. It swamped the surrounding buildings, large enough to hold the entire square easily within its walls. From the stone pillars lining the stairway were banners bearing the flag of Faerghus, blue with a silver griffin rider. Above the entranceway was a balcony where the Royal Family was able to greet the crowds below. 

Where Dimitri one day hoped he would be able to take his place on the throne and see his people as their King. 

Approaching the gate leading to the Palace Estate, two guards blocked his path with their spears. Dimitri pulled his hood down, his cloak and hair blowing in the wind. It was like the spirit of Claude has possessed him in his absence, allowing him to speak clearly as a prince. 

“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Please, step aside.” 

Dimitri could see that the guards were sceptical of his claim, so he reached into his belt and pulled out a dagger, made with reinforced silver that was able to withstand his strength. Meant for self-defence, he was now about to demonstrate that he bore the Crest of Blaiddyd. Past the two guards was a tree, which looked perfect for target practice. Dimitri took aim, feeling the power of his Crest surge through his body. Due to months of training, he had been getting better at willingly calling his power forwards, rather than it kicking in when he least wanted it. With a single throw, the knife flew from his hands as the Crest bloomed behind him. His aim was off, with the dagger landing a few feet away in the snow, but the evidence was there. As his Crest dimmed down, the two guards dropped to their knees, deeply ashamed of themselves. 

“Apologies, Your Highness. Please, Lord Rodrigue will want to see you.” 

“Thank you.” Dimitri stepped through the gates, now aware of the crowds of people clambering around to see him. He turned to face them, their faces pressed up against the gates and over the walls. With a quick wave and nod, he picked up his dagger and carried on up to the Palace entranceway, where he was allowed straight through without any fuss. 

The inside of the Palace was as richly decorated as the city outside, with banners and streamers hanging down from every railing and along every pillar. The entrance hall gave way to a stairway leading up the all the floors of the Palace, all open so he could see right up to the ceiling. Dimitri felt lost and insignificant as servants hustled around trying to fix the Palace up. In the middle of the hallway, clad in the dark teal of Fraldarius, was Lord Rodrigue. Dimitri didn’t fight the grin that spread across his face as he sprinted forwards to greet him. The last time he had seen him at Garreg Mach, there had been no time for a proper reunion, so he relished the opportunity to properly hug the man who had saved his life. 

Rodrigue turned at the sound of Dimitri’s boots on the tiled flooring, his arms held out open like he was greeting a long-lost son. Dimitri nearly knocked Rodrigue over with the force of his hug, clasping his arms around him. Hugging Claude was nice and all, but this was different. There was something fatherly about the way Rodrigue laughed and patted his head. 

“Dimitri, my boy. I’m glad you were able to come. No Claude?” 

“Claude had to return to the Alliance. Trouble at Myrddin, something like that. The letter came from Edelgard, so it must be serious.” Dimitri didn’t want to let go of Rodrigue, the embrace strumming up some faint memories of his father. He blinked, and Rodrigue was replaced by his father. Towering above him, with blonde hair and blue eyes, Lambert ruffled his hair and laughed about how much he had grown. Another blink, and Lambert was gone. 

“Your Highness, are you alright?” Rodrigue patted Dimitri’s shoulders. “I’ll take you to see your father’s grave later, alright? For now, I think it’s time you saw Felix and Sylvain. Ingrid will be here later.” 

“Right, yes, of course.”

Rodrigue took Dimitri up the main staircase to the first floor, far away from the hive of activity. Dimitri was stunned by the lavish interior décor. There wasn’t a wall, railing, or pillar that wasn’t covered in ribbons of blue and silver. He came to a stop in front of a grand portrait of a King dressed in regal blues and silvers, a silver crown nestling amongst his blonde hair. The man was regal, dignified, every bit the king he appeared to me. Underneath, engraved into a plaque on the picture frame, was a name: 

_Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd_. 

“Father.” Dimitri traced his fingers over the name. He gave the portait one last glance before running to catch up with Rodrigue, who had opened the door leading into a study.

Inside were two figures sat by a roaring fire, hunched over a chess table. One of them had the same hair colour as Rodrigue and was also clad in the dark teal robes. 

_Felix._

The other man, who appeared to be slightly older, had bright red hair and was decked in the maroon of Gautier. 

_Sylvain_.

It was Sylvain who looked up first, freezing in place at the sight of Dimitri. 

“Dimitri...” 

Felix turned his head to face Dimitri, the stern expression on his face melting away. 

“Nice of you to show up, boar.” The boy said, though there was no hint of malice in his voice. 

Both got to their feet as Dimitri stepped towards them. There was a brief moment where they looked at each other, and then all three were locked in a tight embrace, Dimitri willingly allowing himself to sink into their arms. One of his arms was clamped around Sylvain’s shoulder, the other around Felix’s. Felix had buried his head into Dimitri’s neck, which was slowly becoming damp.

“If you tell anyone about this, boar, I’ll cut you,” Felix said, his threats muffled against Dimitri’s cloak. 

Dimitri couldn’t remember anything else about them, aside from their names. However, he did know that they were important to him, and seeing them again would be a huge morale boost for him. He didn’t want to ever let go. 

*

Before heading to the festival, Dimitri stopped by his father's grave. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he headed further into the cemetery. Located to the west of the Palace grounds, the cemetery was home to the graves of many important people in the Kingdom’s history. King Loog, the first king of Faerghus, had a monument at the top of the cemetery, with a plaque stating that the remains of Pan were also buried there. Dimitri only knew a few titbits about the rebellion of Faerghus, so made a mental note to ask Rodrigue more about it when he had the chance. Moving on from Loog’s grave, he read the names of all the other kings until he came to the most recent grave, the one that bore the name of his father. 

“I’m back, father. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long.” Dimitri knelt down at the grave, unsure of what to do or how to react. 

“He’s not buried there. His body was never recovered from Duscur. The grave is more for show, I’m afraid.” Rodrigue crouched down besides Dimitri. “Many attempts have been made to find him and bring him back here, but due to the ongoing hostilities, all attempts failed. It is likely he was thrown onto a mass pyre and burnt to ashes. I’m sorry, Dimitri.” 

“No, it is alright. I still feel like he’s watching over me. Somewhere.”

By the time Dimitri got to the festival, the blizzard had lightened up to a soft dusting, and now he could finally take Fhirdiad in its full glory. Not that he spent much time taking in the sights, as he was too busy catching up with his old friends. The four of them bundled up with goblets of hot cocoa, helping Dimitri fill in any gaps in his memories. They told him everything from how they grew up together, to their time at the Officers Academy. Dimitri didn’t miss the fact that none of them mentioned the Tragedy of Duscur. 

_It’s probably for the best_. 

As the clock in the Central Square struck nine, the fireworks display began. The night-time sky was alive with blues and silvers, drawing “oohs” and “aahs” from the civilians. Dimitri wasn’t paying attention, as he noticed that Claude has not returned. True, he told Claude to take as long as needed dealing with whatever emergency was taking place at Myrddin, but he was now beginning to miss his absence. Felix and Sylvain had their arms around each other, and Ingrid was devouring a large crepe by herself, chocolate dripping down her chin. He wanted someone to share such a special occasion with. 

With everyone’s attention towards the fireworks, Dimitri snuck away and made his way back up to the palace. The guards allowed him to pass with no objections, and Dimitri slammed the doors behind him. He moved on autopilot, his legs carrying him through the palace and back out into the cemetery. At his father’s grave, a fresh wreath had been laid down. Dimitri curled up at the foot of the headstone, the snow soaking into his clothes. He closed his eyes, fresh tears falling from his eyes. There was a cold hand against his face, and Dimitri knew that it was his father. 

“Dimitri? Hey, don’t be falling ill on me again.” 

_Claude!_

Dimitri scrambled to her feet, the chill hand falling away from his cheek. He brushed the snow off his clothes and ran through the snow to where Claude was waiting for him. As he got closer, his heart sank at the amount of dark blood on Claude’s armour. The cut across his eyebrow was also new. 

Dimitri yanked Claude into a fierce kiss, hands buried in his hair. Claude laughed into the kiss, tugging Dimitri closer and returning the kiss. 

“I’ve only been done a few hours.” Claude was the first to break apart, linking his hands through Dimitri’s. “The assailants who attacked Myrddin have been dealt with. There’s no clue as to who they were, but both Edelgard and I suspect that they are a faction of the Imperial army who want to incite a war with the Alliance. A stupid move, as everyone knows Edelgard and I are political allies. Ah well... Come on, I want to catch up with everyone else.” 

Dimitri protested, insisting that Claude tell him more about Mryddin, but his words were ignored by Claude as he was dragged back into the palace. Whatever transpired at Myrddin, and why Claude was covered in blood, would have to wait. 


	10. Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri celebrates his birthday and asks Claude about what happened at Myrddin.

_Though most stars will still glimmer in the crisp winter air, the blue sea star has gone back into hiding. Legend states that the goddess prays for peace from her home in the heavens. In the town of Garreg Mach, the anniversary of the monastery's completion nears, and the people's prayers intensify ahead of the millennium festival, still four years hence._

_Dimitri, still wanting to know about the attack on Myrddin, had to wait until his birthday celebrations were over and done with._

_*_

On the twentieth day of the Ethereal Moon, winter firmly made its mark within the Alliance with a snowstorm blowing east from the Kingdom over the Oghma Mountains. The once verdant planes turned a stark shade of white, and Derdriu fell silent as the ports were closed and the civilians hunkered down inside their homes to wait out the blizzard. Anticipating such an event, and still reeling from the attack on Myrddin, Claude ordered that food and supplies be distributed amongst the territories to ensure everyone had enough to withstand the storm. He rode out from Derdriu to ensure all those in Riegan territory would be able to fend for themselves. Anyone who was not would be invited to stay at the Derdriu Town Hall, where food and shelter would be supplied for them until the storm had passed. Claude had only been Duke for a few short months but was already proving himself as someone who cared for his people. 

Dimitri was grateful that the Manor library had a fireplace that kept the cold out. From what he could gather, a blizzard of this magnitude was unheard of in the Alliance. He awoke in the early hours and moved into the library so Claude could sleep in, and opted to read in front of the fireplace still in his nightclothes. Resting on a leather armchair, huddled beneath Claude’s golden blanket, Dimitri watched as the snow landed on the window in perfectly formed flakes before melting into water. The book on his lap had been long forgotten about as he thought back to his visit to Fhirdiad last month, and how lovely it had been to see meet his friends again, even if he still had no memories of them. There was the still the black cloud that lingered over his head about Myrddin. Claude had still not told him what took place and seemed content to keep it a secret. 

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted by Claude reaching around from behind the armchair and planting several kisses onto his face. 

“Happy birthday, my love.” Claude hugged Dimitri from behind, his arms linking in front of his shoulders. Dimitri smiled as he tilted his head upwards to receive a proper kiss. Clearly having only just woken up, Claude had tousled hair and a love-struck expression as he deepened the kiss. He had chosen to fall in love with Dimitri, and Dimitri had felt as though Sothis herself had blessed him. 

“It’s my birthday, is it? I’d completely forgotten.” Dimitri said when the kiss came to an end. “How old am I now?” 

“Nineteen.” Claude carefully closed the book on Dimitri’s lap and placed it back into the bookshelf. “And I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I’ve had it marked on my calendar. Sadly, I’ve not been able to throw you a surprise party, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have presents to unwrap.” 

In one swift motion, Claude yanked the blanket away from Dimitri, exposing him to the chill that had seeped in through the windows. He shivered as Claude took his hand and heaved him from the armchair and out the library. The rest of the house was beginning to stir as Claude lead Dimitri into the study, which Claude had forbidden him from entering for the past month. And as soon as he entered, Dimitri could see why. In the far corner was a pile of presents, some large and others small.

“Ta-da! They’re mostly all from your friends in the Kingdom, and some are from me.” Claude sat down at his desk, his chin resting on his hands. Dimitri knelt in front of the presents, deciding which one to open first. He opted to unwrap one that had been wrapped in beautiful teal paper with a silver ribbon. Attached to the ribbon was a label with “ _Happy Birthday, Dimitri_ ” written in italic handwriting. He carefully peeled open the paper to reveal a wooden box, his full name burned into the lid in the same handwriting as the note. Inside was a letter, neatly folded up and sealed with a blue seal embossed with a fancy-looking symbol. It was a Crest of the Kingdom, _but which one?_

“Sorry, Claude. I still cannot remember this Crest. Which one is this again?” Dimitri held it up for Claude to see. Claude leant in closer, a smile spreading across his face. 

“The Crest of Daphnel. Looks like Ingrid has written you a letter.” Claude rummaged into a drawer to retrieve a dagger and sliced through the wax seal. He unfolded the letter, handing it back to Dimitri for him to read. 

_“Your Highness._

_I want to wish you a happy birthday. I am sorry that I cannot be there, or that you cannot be here. Just know that it was a delight to see you and Claude last month for the Kingdom’s founding._

_There has been some skirmish to the north in Gautier territory. Some soldiers from Sreng were trying to invade, so we’re all currently holed up there waiting for the latest news. Don’t worry about us, Your Highness. The odds of a war breaking out are slim, and even if war does occur, we are well prepared._

_Enjoy the rest of your day!_

_Your friend,_

_Ingrid._

Inside the box, carefully wrapped in a pale teal cloth, was a silver broach with the Blaiddyd Crest carved into it. On the reserve were Dimitri’s initials. 

“An invasion to the north? Well, that’s new. I’ve not been informed about it so it must only be a minor skirmish. I shall ask for updates soon. For now,” Claude gestured to the pile of presents “More gifts for the birthday boy.” 

Carefully placing the broach and letter back into the box, Dimitri moved onto a present wrapped in the dark teal of Fraldarius. Inside were a set of books about the adventures of King Loog. A letter fell out from between the books, sealed with the Crest of Fraldarius. 

_Your Highness,_

_I am pleased to hear that you are recovering well, and it was delightful to see both you and Claude at Fhirdiad last month. A shame you were not able to stay longer, but I trust there will be plenty of time for more visits._

_Enclosed is the completed series about King Loog I, the very first King of Faerghus. Whilst I doubt they will do much to help regain your memories, I thought it would be nice to do some reading to learn about the history of Faerghus. Even if it is a romanticised version of true events._

_All is well here in Faerghus, save for the recent invasion attempts from Sreng. We are holding them well enough. We have Margrave Gautier and the Lance of Ruin to thank._

_I hope that you will continue to recover, and I will be visiting soon to check in on you.!_

_I am forever in your service,_

_Duke Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius_

Underneath, in scrawled handwriting that is barely legible, was a small message. 

_happy birthday boar_

_felix_

“Ah, classic Felix.” Claude chuckled as he shook his head. “Even now, he can’t properly express his feelings. I already opened this letter. It’s from Sylvain.”

_“Yo, Dimitri!_

_Happy birthday! Was great to finally see and Claude at the celebrations last month! Claude did look like he had fought a battle, but it was still great to meet up!_

_I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you anything special, but with the Sreng region causing a ruckus, I’ve been on the front lines with my father. Not much time for present shopping, I’m afraid! I’m writing this is in the middle of a war camp. I’ll send it to Derdriu by owl. Hope it arrives in time!_

_If things manage to calm down, hopefully I can visit! I’ve always wanted to see Derdriu for myself. I imagine it’s like my home town, only less cold._

_Enough rambling. I have to get ready to travel out. It should be an easy battle, but in the event of my untimely demise, I will make sure my father alerts you._

_See you soon!_

_Sylvain.”_

After Sylvain’s letter, Dimitri read some more messages from his former classmates. Mercedes and Annette sent heartfelt letters that express how thankful they are for his safety, and Ashe wrote a short story about an exiled King reclaiming that which he had lost. 

And then it was time for Claude’s present: a bundle that was hastily wrapped in golden paper. Curious, Dimitri ripped open the paper to find some fabric bundled up into a ball. As he straightened it out, he discovered that was a blanket, handstitched with gorgeous multicoloured fabrics. 

“I bought some of the fabric from various stalls here in the city. Some of them, however, have come from afar. This one,” Claude got to his feet and approached Dimitri, pointing out several squares of black velvet with a royal blue fleur-de-lis pattern, “Is from Fhirdiad. And this one, the one with the fancy red and teal pattern, comes from the Fraldarius /Gautier border. And the light teal with the white lances crossing is Galatea. But my favourite one is this. The golden, green, and black zigzag pattern is characteristic of my homeland. You probably noticed that I am not from Fódlan, but rather from the neighbouring Almyra. My father sent it over when I explained what was happening. I’m not the best at sewing, so I got the seamstress to make it for me. I hope you like it, and-urk!” 

Claude was cut off by Dimitri hurling his arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly. Laughing lightly, Claude patted Dimitri on the back. 

“I take it you like it, then?” 

“I love it, Claude. Thank you.” Dimitri whispered; his head buried in Claude’s shoulder. “I am fortunate to be surrounded by people who care about me like this. I may have managed to forget a lot of things, but I will not forget about this.” 

There was, however, still something left between them. The events that took place at Myrddin. How and why Claude got so covered in blood in what should be been a simple battle. 

“Claude, I... I need to know.” Dimitri stepped back; his hands plastered on Claude’s shoulders. “Myrddin. What happened? Please, I need to know.” 

“I figured you would. Alright, take a seat.” Claude returned to his desk, gesturing for Dimitri to sit opposite him. Clearing his throat, Claude linked his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table. “I say they were Imperial soldiers, but only because they were wearing the Imperial uniform. Edelgard swears that she did not call them to attack Myrddin, and did not recognise any of them as her own. So where they came from, and what their purpose is? We just don’t know.” 

“And the bridge?” 

“Still standing. Count Gloucester has doubled his troops there, and Edelgard has also supplied some extras as a show of solidarity.” Claude looked down at his hands, thumbs rubbing over the callouses. “No need to worry, Dima. We’ll be fine. I promise. And now, let’s return to what really matters. Cake for the birthday boy!” 

Claude leapt out of his chair and grabbed Dimitri by his hand, dragging him from the office and down to the ground floor. All the time, Dimitri couldn’t shake the feeling that something larger was at play, and that Claude was being deliberately blasé about it all. 

_I hope you’re right, Claude. I sincerely hope that everything will be okay._


	11. Guardian Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions reach their breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :<

_Long ago, the guardian Seiros made an appearance during this moon. She had been summoned by the Goddess, whose soul was suffering as the flames of war raged across Fódlan. Some believe that high in the sky above Seiros, the Immaculate One’s mighty wings are what powered the strong winds carrying the guardian and her forces into battle._

_Tensions reach their breaking point as another attempt is made on Claude’s life._

_*_

“Excuse me, good sirs! Would you be interested in pursuing my wares?” 

Dimitri stopped short of the Derdriu gates, stunned by this merchant who had set up shop outside the city. He had seen merchants come and go, but they always travelled in the daylight, and mostly when it was warmer. For a travelling merchant to be setting up in the evening, and during a blizzard no less, was suspicious. 

“Do you have a permit to be selling here?” Claude called out, huddling underneath his cloak. The Alliance was experiencing its worse snowfall in some time, meaning all activity within the country had ground to a halt. As Claude continued to interrogate the mysterious people, Dimitri examined the wheels of the cart carefully. Somehow, there were no tracks indicating that the cart had been dragged in the snow. Even with the weather, the marks shouldn’t have been covered up instantly. His and Claude’s footprints were still fresh in the snow, which made Dimitri wonder just how the trader arrived in the first place. It was highly unlikely that they would have taken the time to deliberately set up a cart just to trick them. Unless...

“Come now, Your Grace! Surely you must be interested in this fine weapon here!” The marchant selected an ebony dagger, running a gloved finger over the blade. “This beauty is forged from reinforced silver, and coated in a layer of poison that goes to work straight away. Here...” The figure yanked down their hood to reveal a ghostly-white face and a grin that spread from ear to ear. “Try it yourself!” 

Claude shoved Dimitri out the way as he expertly dodged the attack, the dagger planting itself into the tree behind them. Immediately, chaos erupted as the civilians who were having fun in the snow screamed and bolted back behind the city gates. Dimitri pushed himself up from the snow in time to see the would-be assassin vanish in purple smoke, arrows embedded in the snow where he was a moment ago. 

“Claude... Claude!” Dimitri scrambled to his feet and hurried over to where Claude was stood, his gaze fixated on the weapon still in the tree. The bare branches began to shrivel up and fall off until only the trunk was left, sap oozing out from the bark. Dimitri shuddered to think what would have happened to Claude had he been the one to get stabbed. 

“Claude...” He repeated, embracing Claude and digging his fingers into his cloak. This marked the second time someone had tried to assassinate Claude, and it was two times too many. 

“Dimitri. Let’s get back to the Manor...” Claude sighed, resting his head against Dimitri’s chest, his arms hanging limply by his side. “Get out of this cold.” 

“Yes, let’s...” Dimitri took Claude by the hand and dragged him through the gates into Derdriu. Behind him, the guards ushered everyone in and locked everything down. The civilians were urged to return to their homes and not open the door for anybody. What started as a relaxing evening in the snow turned into a living nightmare as Derdriu fell silent. Dimitri made extra sure that the Manor was in lockdown as Claude headed straight up the stairs and into his office. Dimitri followed him, his anxiety through the roof. He needed to get Claude out of Derdriu, fast. 

“Claude, please, we need to leave Derdriu. This is the second time someone has made an attempt on your life!” Dimitri anxiously paced back and forth, his fingertip rubbing at his temples. “It’s not safe to be here.” 

“I can’t, Dimitri, and you know I can’t.” Claude sat down at his desk and rummaged in a drawer for a tinderbox. He struck a match and held it an oil lamp, extinguishing the match with a single puff. “I can’t up and leave my country, not when I am the Duke. To do so would be to abandon them when they need me most. I may have nearly been assassinated now and back in Harpstring Moon, but there was also an attack on Myrddin that we were fortunately able to hold off. This is the work of Those Who Slither in the Dark, and they are out there attempting to destabilise the Alliance by any means necessary. And if they succeed, then who knows what will happen. I can’t just up and leave right now!” Claude slammed his hands on his desk to emphasise his point. 

“Claude...” Dimitri leaned closer to Claude, his hands resting so close that their fingertips barely touched. “Please. There won’t be any country left to govern if you were to be killed. If you die, anarchy will surely ensue, making everything you’ve worked towards pointless.” He glanced downwards; the flame from the candle reflecting off of Claude’s beautiful green eyes. “Maybe we won’t need to leave the Alliance! Maybe... Maybe just go somewhere else within the Alliance! Goneril territory! North to the Margravate of Edmund! The...”

“Enough, Dimitri!” Claude shot to his feet, his chair scraping across the wooden floor. “Do you really think these attacks will stop if I skip my way across the country?! No, they won’t. If they really want me dead, they’ll track me down no matter where I go! And if I were to move, it would put other territories in danger, plunging the Alliance into even more turmoil! I’ve sent word out to the other nobles to be on the lookout for suspicious activity, and that’s all I can do for now! So stop trying to get me to leave! I can’t!” 

“You had no problems leaving when you took me to Fhirdiad a couple of months ago! You up and left Derdriu to travel across Fódlan!” Dimitri yelled back, his fists curled up tight, his knuckles turning white. 

“That was for the founding of the Kingdom, as a special treat for you! And I didn’t just 'up and leave’, I had procedures put in place for my absence. I told the other nobles that I was visiting Fhirdiad for a day, and to send an owl should anything happen. And, oh look, it did!” Claude stabbed his finger onto the map on his desk. “Myrddin was attacked! I left and things got worse! I don’t want to leave again and for my whole country to be destroyed!”

“Are you suggesting that it was my fault, Claude?! That I’m the reason all this has been happening?!” 

“Of course not! I’m saying that things will only get worse if I left now. I am not willing to risk having the conditions within my lands deteriorate when I’m away.” 

“This isn’t something worth risking your life over!” Dimitri could feel his temper rising, his Crest burning inside of him. “Why can’t you put yourself in front, for once! Think about your own safety! You can’t rule if you’re dead!”

“That’s easy for you to say! You haven’t got a country to worry about! You turned your back on Faerghus to hide away like the pathetic excuse of a prince you are!” Claude’s voice broke, his eyes watering. “Maybe that’s why you want me to leave, so you don’t feel so guilty for abandoning your people and leaving all the hard work to someone else whilst you take the time to do absolutely nothing!” 

“You said I could stay! You said I could stay for as long as needed until I recovered!” His breathing erratic, Dimitri snatched up Claude’s ink well and hurled it at the wall behind him, his Crest activating. The glass disintegrated upon contact, smashing into minuscule pieces. Ink was trailing to the floor. Some stray drops land on Claude and the paperwork on the desk. Blood trickled down Claude’s cheek where a glass shard had sliced through the skin. 

The heavy mahogany chair clattered to the ground as Claude shoved past Dimitri, fire burning in his eyes. Dimitri paused a moment to survey the damage he had caused: ink-stained the walls, papers were thrown to the floor, and Claude _hated_ him. They had never fought like this, not once. 

“Claude, wait! I didn’t mean...” Dimitri grabbed hold of Claude’s arm, who snatched it away. 

“Just leave already! If you want to go, then go! You clearly don’t want to be around me, so get out of my sight!” Claude spat at Dimitri, tears streaming down his face. He gave Dimitri one last push as he stomped into their, no, _his_ , bedroom and slammed the door with enough force to shake the walls. 

“Fine, I’ll go! I’ll return to Fhirdiad and take my place as King! And when the assassins get to you, I won’t be there to protect you. In fact, I won’t even attend your funeral!”. With a roar of frustration, Dimitri slammed his fists into a mirror hanging on the wall, oblivious to the shards of glass embedded into his flesh. He ran through the corridor and down the stairs into the main hall, where worried staff members gasped as he brushed past them and threw open the main door. Soft flakes of snow fell from the sky as Dimitri paced around the Manor grounds, his blood boiling. How could Claude not see _how_ much danger he was in? Why did he have to be so infuriatingly stubborn?! 

Dimitri came to a halt at the Manor stables, where the Duke’s old horses were kept, as well as Claude’s special wyvern. The animal gave out a panicked cry when Dimitri ripped open its stable door and clambered onto it. With a firm smack on its hide, the wyvern took to the skies with Dimitri clinging onto its neck. The rational part of him was telling him to stop being so stupid, to turn back around and explain everything to Claude, but the irrational part was in charge. So he carried on soaring through the skies above Fódlan, Derdriu becoming a tiny speck in the distance. He flew until the scales of the wyvern dug into his thighs, until the mirror shards in his hands were beginning to sting, until he could see a city lit up amongst the snow. 

The wyvern dropped to the ground outside a walled city, shaking him off vigorously. Dimitri didn’t fight as he collapsed in the snow, much deeper than the snow in Derdriu. With a final screech, the wyvern spread its wings and took off, presumably to return to Claude in Derdriu. 

“Oh dear, wyverns have always been difficult creatures to tame. That’s why we use pegasi instead, and... Oh, Goddess above! Your Highness!” 


	12. Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri receives a letter from Claude

_ The northern lands are enveloped in a bitter cold, and frigid winds are carried across the sea to the south of Adrestia. When feather-white snow falls on Fódlan’s Locket, the fort looks as delicate as a pearl. However, beneath the snowy blanket, her Throat is more treacherous than ever.  _

_ Still seething from his fight with Claude, Dimitri tries to make himself useful to the Kingdom, going against the wishes of everyone close to him.  _

_ * _

“Your Highness? Please, you are not well. You must return to Derdriu.” 

Dimitri scoffed, tucking his straggly hair out of his eyes. He hadn’t washed in weeks, instead focusing all his effort on the heaps of paperwork that Lord Rodrigue had spent nearly the past year working on. The last time his hair was still long, Claude had been the one to lovingly trim it, kissing the top of his head after he’d finished. The thought of Claude giving him a kiss now made his heart ache. But no, Claude made it clear that Dimitri was not welcome back in Derdriu. 

“Why should I bother?” He snapped, clasping his hand into a fist and snapping the quill he was holding. Ink sprayed onto the clean bandages that were wrapped around his wounds from where he had smashed the mirror. “Claude said he doesn’t want me there. He told me to return home and get out of his sight.” 

Rodrigue sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Your Highness, you and Claude had a falling out. It is natural. You both had differing opinions, and you both thought that you were in the right. Which you were because both of your opinions were valid.” Rodrigue sat down in the chair opposite Dimitri, shuffling the pile of papers away from him. “But you were both too stubborn to see the other side of the argument. Because of that, neither of you could resolve the argument without resorting to violence and losing your temper at each other.”

“Claude was too stubborn to see that his life was in danger!” Dimitri threw the broken quill to the floor. A few ink drops began to seep into the faded carpet. “If he had just listened to me, we’d both be here and none of this would have happened.” Now completely overcome with emotion, Dimitri thrusts the pile of papers off the desk, sending important documents soaring into the air. The only noise that could be heard in the aftermath was the crackling of the fire, the flittering of papers settling on the floor, and Dimitri’s heavy breathing. He flopped down onto the wooden desk, knocking over the inkpot in the process and staining his hands. “What do I do... How do I fix this, Rodrigue? I miss Claude... I miss him so much.” 

Rodrigue eased Dimitri out of his chair and helped him into one of the plush armchairs in front of the fireplace. Dimitri slumped against the back, too tired to properly support himself. Everything in the office was exactly as his father left it. His uncle, in the time he was Regent, used a separate office on the other side of the Palace. All the trinkets, the books, the décor... All were originals belonging to his father. 

And, Gods forbid he ever reclaims his throne, to Dimitri, too. 

As Rodrigue added more logs to the fire, Dimitri couldn’t help but wonder if Claude was in his office back at Derdriu, staring at the fireplace. Was he thinking about Dimitri? Or was he... No, he was still alive. If he had been killed, the news would have spread across all of Fódlan. Even in the far reaches of Faerghus, Dimitri would have heard about Claude’s death. 

“How do I fix this? We both said awful things to each other. He called me a pathetic excuse for a prince, and I said I wouldn’t attend his funeral should he be killed.” Dimitri clenched his fingers into his trousers, the fabric straining under his grip. “I also destroyed his office and broke his mirror. I stole his wyvern... He probably doesn’t even want me back.” 

With the fire now roaring in the marble fireplace, Rodrigue got to his feet and scooped up a blanket from the back of a sofa. He draped it around Dimitri, tucking him in like a child who’s had a nightmare and needs help getting back to sleep.

“The simple solution, Your Highness, is to return to Derdriu. Both you and Claude should have had time to calm down and review what has happened. I’d be happy to accompany you and act as a mediator between you two whilst you sort everything out.” Rodrigue said, walking across the office to answer a knock at the door. “If I may be honest, Your Highness, you are still not well. In your current state, you should not take on the pressure of ruling. I am working with Margrave Gautier and Count Galatea to keep the Kingdom running. Faerghus can wait for its king. Claude needs you by his side.” 

Dimitri snuggled further into his blanket, his heart aching at the thought of Claude sat in his office all alone. Ever since he took over as Duke, Dimitri had been at his side, acting as his support. Without that support, Claude was... Well, he was a teenager who was suddenly tasked with looking after an entire country by himself.

“Your Highness?” Rodrigue knelt in front of him, a sealed roll of parchment in his hand. “This has just arrived. The messenger said that it was from Duke Riegan for the attention of the Prince of Faerghus.” 

“Claude!” Dimitri snatched up the scroll. He briefly saw the Crest of Gloucester on the wax seal before he tore it open and unravelled the scroll. On the parchment was Claude’s handwriting, messy and oh-so-beautiful. 

_ “Dimitri,  _

_ I don’t know if you’ll read this, but I hope you do. I’m so sorry I shouted at you and called out all those horrible things. If you hate me, I wouldn’t blame you. If you never want to see me again, then so be it. Please, listen to what I have to say, and you don’t need to worry about responding. The truth is, I was frustrated at what was happening. This stuff never happened when my grandfather was Duke, and as soon as I take over, everything goes wrong. I wanted so hard to make everything right, to be the Duke my people needed me to be, that I put my duty in front of my life. You were right, I should have left. I ended up leaving anyway, once I’d calmed down enough to think rationally. As soon as my wyvern returned, I flew to Fódlan’s Locket, and then to Gloucester territory. The Count found a spy amongst his ranks who was sending out the assassins. He died before he could reveal any more information, but hopefully things should calm down.” _

Dimitri could not read the rest as his eyes were watering too much. This sweet, darling boy thought Dimitri hated him. Dimitri could _never_ hate Claude, not even if he tried. Rodrigue took the letter from him and continued reading. 

“ _I intend to stay in Gloucester territory to finish up on business and to check on Myrddin, and then I will return to Derdriu at the end of Lone Moon. If you want to see me there, then you are most welcome back. I would love nothing more than to start the new Imperial Year with us reconciling and moving forwards together, as one._

_ I love you.  _

_ Claude.”  _

“Claude... I... I need to send him a letter back. I must...” Dimitri shoved the blanket off him and frantically shot up from his sofa. At his desk, he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a new quill, not leaving enough time for the excess ink to drip from the nib as he scrawled a response. 

_ “Claude, _

_ I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You are incredibly close to my heart, and it fills me with sorrow to think about such things. I want nothing more than to see you again, to be with you. You shouldn’t be facing these things alone. It was selfish of me to want to drag you away from your duties, as you are the Duke. Please, stay safe in Gloucester until the end of Lone Moon. I will be there to see the new year in with you, at your side.  _

_ I love you, too. _

_ Dimitri” _


	13. Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Claude reunite on the eve of the new year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of part one :3

_Together, the people of Fódlan relish the beauty of the brilliant moon overhead as another year ends. They recall sad partings and new acquaintances alike, but each person must still walk their chosen path alone. With each day, the presence of spring grows stronger and yet a lone moon still haunts the sky. A silent remind, perhaps, of some inescapable truth._

_Their argument still fresh on his mind, Dimitri returns to Derdriu just in time to ring in the new year._

_*_

Returning to Derdriu was bittersweet. 

On the one hand, the townsfolk were celebrating the upcoming start of the new Imperial Year. Dimitri briefly thought about joining in with the inebriated dancing that was taking place in the city centre, where wine and ale were freely passed around and the music was completely out of tune. He also considered watching the fireworks display, the bright golds and greens filling up the cloudless night’s sky. Instead, he opted to head straight to the Riegan Manor, eager to reunite with Claude. Their letters over the past month had only reaffirmed how much they meant to each other, and how much they missed the other. 

Dimitri wanted nothing more than to hold Claude close in his arms again. 

More fireworks went off behind him as Dimitri reached the Manor. The gates were unguarded, allowing him to enter the estate with no restrictions. Everything felt like home again, from the snowdrops lining the pathways and the familiar fresh scent that was missing from Fhirdiad. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he reached the front door, giving it two firm knocks as he twisted the door handle, the hallway in complete darkness. The only source of light originated from underneath a closed door on the right, the reception room. Dimitri quietly closed the front door and cautiously crept over, poking his head around to investigate the room. He was greeted with the sorry sight of Claude stood at the grand window, staring out at the sky as more fireworks exploded in a spectrum of colour. In his hand was a glass of liquid, possibly alcoholic. The oil lamps were burning low, giving out enough light for Dimitri to see that Claude’s hair hadn’t been brushed in a while and his clothes were extremely crumpled. 

“Oh, Claude...” Dimitri spoke without realising. Claude spun round with a startled cry, spilling the contents of his glass over his tunic. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, the sight of which made Dimitri want to close the distance between them and embrace him and never let go. Instead, he took a small step forward and nervously rubbed his arms. “Hey...” 

“Hey.” Claude wiped the sleeves on his tunic on his trousers as he slid the glass on a side table next to him, shoving some papers onto the floor in the process. He wiped his eyes with his clean sleeve. “You came back.” 

“Yes, and I wanted to apologise again. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I was just so scared that there was going to be another attempt on your life. I thought... I wondered... No, I wanted to get you away from here, take you to Fhirdiad for safety. It never dawned on me that you would want to stay here to be with your people. You’re the Sovereign Duke, and you have a country to govern. I... I’m the one who has selfishly abandoned my people, my country.” Dimitri clenched up his fists, bitter tears forming in his eye. “A kingdom without a king, what kind of twisted joke is that?!” 

“Dimitri...” Claude planted his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. Up close, Dimitri could tell that Claude hasn’t washed in some time and there were dried tear stains on his cheeks. And yet, he looked stunningly beautiful. “We could have avoided all this if we’d both been willing to listen to each other... And I’m sorry I called you a pathetic excuse for a prince. Do you forgive me?” 

“Of course I do.” Dimitri lunged forwards and buried his head into Claude’s shoulder, gripping onto him with all of his might. The fabric of Dimitri’s cloak was soaked as Claude returned the hug, squeezing Dimitri with enough force that the air was knocked out of his lungs. All the tension in the air evaporated as they held each other, content to not let go as the grandfather clock in the hallway rang in the new Imperial Year. Dimitri withdrew from the hug as Claude did the same, both thinking the same thing. They kissed as the clock finished chiming and the fireworks display outside kicked off. Dimitri knew, there and then, that this is where he belonged. With Claude. No matter where they went, they would go together. 

“I love you, Claude,” Dimitri whispered when the kiss ended. Claude’s face was still incredibly _beautiful_ , even with his puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Dimitri kissed him again, longer this time, savouring the moment. If he was to die the next day for whatever reason, he could go in the knowledge that he and Claude loved each other. The sceptics would scoff and say that it was nothing more than puppy love, that they’ll grow older and fall in love with other people. But no. Dimitri knew that he would never love anyone else other than Claude. 

“I love you, too, Dimitri. And hey,” Claude breathed against Dimitri’s cheek, his warm breath sending shivers down his spine, “It’s been a year since you arrived. I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made. You were nearly at death’s door this time last year, and look at you now.” 

“I only got this far because of your guidance.” Dimitri pressed more kisses into Claude’s hair as the fireworks display continued down in the city below. “Without you, I’d be dead...” 

“And without you, I wouldn’t have been able to rule the Alliance. You have helped me more than you realise. And now that the threat of assassins has passed, we can focus on ruling again without worrying about our lives.” Claude sighed in Dimitri’s arms; a content sound that made Dimitri want to kiss him even more. “Tomorrow, let’s go fishing again.” 


End file.
